


Those Unsought, Lovely Keys

by RosaClearwater



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Gen, Modern AU, role-reversal au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 22:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: "Phyllis Baxter, I presume?" She was the only woman in the entire pub sitting by herself, tucked away in a corner and mostly hidden behind a menu. And though she'd apparently forgotten the rose that was supposed to signal to him that she was his date for the evening, he hardly needed the flower to deduce she was waiting for him."Actually, I prefer Alice Neal."





	1. That Unsought Love

**Author's Note:**

> "Love sought is good, but given unsought is better." - William Shakespeare, _Twelfth Night_
> 
> **Author's Note: **Hello! For those who are fans of "Ten Other Ways", this first chapter may seem _very _familiar to you. For those who've never heard of "Ten Other Ways", no worries! Think of this story as a spin-off that can stand on its own.
> 
> Also, special thanks to Chelsietx for inspiring me to bring life to this little story!
> 
> **Rating: **K+
> 
> **Word Count: **5,691
> 
> **Warning:** Synchronicity and cavity-inducing fluff, a shout-out to another favorite DA pairing, and not-so-subtle matchmaking up ahead.

"Remind again as to why I am humoring you with this charade?" Charles Carson nearly growled as he was unceremoniously shoved out of the car.

"Because we're worried about you, Charlie!" His friend lightly reminded him for the fifth time that evening as she put more effort into getting him onto the pavement. "And we want you to be happy!"

"And because you can't act when you're not in love." Their current chauffeur snarked from the driver's seat. "Have fun!"

Without another word, the man found himself on the pavement with his only so-called friends now gone with the wind. Abandoned to fend for himself in a matter he wasn't given any choice over. In other words, the thespian had just been dramatically ditched to awkwardly interact with society. And, it was no understatement to say that he had absolutely no clue as how to successfully do so.

Let it be known that Charles Carson was not having the best of times.

It seemed, to contradict the words of Dickens, he was only having the worst of times.

It was one of those moments in which the man immensely questioned his life, his choices, and why on earth he allowed those two indecorous individuals to claim the spot of his "best mates". Truly, considering his personality, it almost felt impossible that he was hanging out with two such characters. "Brazenly audacious" and "fiercely independent" were not words ever used to describe him. Nor did "incredibly wicked sense of humour" or "outright rebellious" apply to his nature.

But those terms fit his friends practically perfectly.

And just how did this trio form? One could only suppose that the connection between these three individual laid within their unending support for one another — as illogical as it may seem. Or, perhaps, it resided in the strong ties that only decades of friendship could form. Finding each other in the realm of theatre and improvisation ages ago, many memories had melded into their bonds ever since. And continuing to remember that there were wonderful people in the performance industry, people who could act ridiculously on the stage and still be surprisingly down to earth behind closed doors, had reinforced the understanding that the three of them would be willingly stuck together for decades to come.

Well, at least, that's what would normally be implied with such thoughts, this concept of unbreakable ties between friends.

_Right_. In recent weeks, Charles had half a mind to break those decades old ties without hesitation.

Lately, his well-meaning friends were turning to setting him up on blind dates or, worse still, trying to fix him up with people they'd worked with on the stage over the years. And if it wasn't these tangible traps of socialization, it was vehement protestations about his love life — or lack, thereof — and explanations that if he just found love he'd be able to take his craft much further.

Still, he wasn't really upset with them. Or, at least, he wasn't upset with them to the point where he seriously wanted to let those relationships go. Charles was undoubtedly irritated that they insisted on this latest fixation, this idea that he couldn't perform if he was lonely. Quite frankly, he didn't think he needed a romantic interest in order to be happy: he had gone for years without romance and has been undoubtedly successful even if he wasn't necessarily "famous". In any case, he certainly didn't want some random woman or old flame to be thrown at him on a weekly basis — it wasn't fair to anyone.

But, regardless of what he wanted, he'd already been deposited at the entrance of some nondescript pub with the explicit command to pretty please enjoy himself for one night. And all of this was supposedly occurring in the name of friendship and love — as though he didn't have enough of that from them already.

"Yes, well, if either of you think I approve," Charles muttered to himself, as though he were still trapped in the car. "You'd be quite mistaken."

He could already hear their responses:

"_Approval's got nothing to do with this, Charlie, boy!" "Charlie, go have a little fun for once, all right?"_

Arguments aside, it was too late now. They'd already driven him off, leaving him to this week's ill-advised pub. And knowing his dear friends as well as he did, Charles had long since surmised that the only thing that would bring them back would be a desire to make sure that he hadn't run away to his flat. In other words, there'd be no rescuing from them.

Not that he really needed it.

Yes, well, now seemed as appropriate a time as any to examine this establishment. The man observed a fair crowd of people inside, though the chatter within the pub was quiet enough he didn't think it was going to be overwhelming. It seemed clean enough, and a step up from the dive-bars Charlie Grigg loved to frequent. _That'd be her influence, _he thought to himself as he glanced up — taking sight of the name gleaming in gold letters before him and confirming Grigg didn't pick this week's spot:

_The Keys._

"Very funny, Elsie."

This definitely had the Elsie Hughes' name written all over it — the not-so-subtle hint reeking of her hopeful romantic nature.

Yes, well, needless to say, Charles hardly felt the key to his love life resided in some pub.

_._

"Phyllis Baxter, I presume?" She was the only woman in the entire pub sitting by herself, tucked away in a corner and mostly hidden behind a menu. And though she'd apparently forgotten the rose that was supposed to signal to him that she was his date for the evening, he hardly needed the flower to deduce she was waiting for him.

"Actually, I prefer Alice Neal." Charles froze, not sure as how to proceed from here, watching her as she gently set down the menu and gave a curious look in his direction. "You wouldn't happen to prefer Joseph Moseley, would you?"

With that dryly spoken statement, he found himself stilling even further. It couldn't possibly be that he was mistaken, though it did look like that was the case. For that matter, it also couldn't possibly be that she was in a similar set-up — having been trapped into going on some sort of social outing by an irritatingly well-meaning friend?

"I take you have also been coerced into socialization this evening?" He regretted the words as soon as he'd gotten them out, having forgotten that she might be inclined to go on dates with strangers. That he might have bungled his chance for a decent conversation by being this blunt early on. Or, at the very least, he'd probably just given a horrid first impression of himself.

Much to his surprise, she outright snorted at this.

"Maybe not in those words, but yeah." Alice Neal was curiously amused by the man before her, much to his relief. "Fancy taking a seat?"

_._

"What do you mean you weren't able to make it to _The Keys_, Phyll?" Charlie Grigg had pulled the car over, letting his longtime friend have her phone call in relative peace. "But, when I texted Charlie, he said everything was going well."

"_Then I suppose everything _is _going well, Els. But I don't know what else to tell you: work called me in without giving me any heads up."_

"I understand," But, Elsie Hughes wasn't pleased with the change in plans — not when it implied that the man had avoided another chance for happiness. Personal feelings aside, she wanted happiness for her dear friend. And, she knew he wasn't happy, not these days. He'd seemed content for many years prior, looking to be quite satisfied with work. But these days, much as he'd deny it, she knew his heart wasn't in acting. She knew that work had become only a means for supporting himself now that he'd built a decent reputation in the city. So, if helping him find happiness meant attempting to make a match for him with someone who seemed right up his alley, someone who'd spark life back into her old friend, then that's what she'd do. "Thank you for letting me know, Phyll. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

"_Talk to you later, Els."_

Finishing the call and hanging up with a practiced ease, inner frustration running rampant, Elsie continued to think the matter over. Though, she didn't need to do that: Charlie already knew what her brain was concluding.

"No." He could already tell, just from the glint in her eyes, that his protests weren't going to work tonight. Didn't stop the man from trying. "Let's leave him alone, Els. We badger him enough as it is."

"And when you have to run your lines together tomorrow?" Because Charlie hadn't really been lying when he said their friend wasn't all that brilliant these days. "Do you want to go through more rehearsals like this last week's?"

The result was instantaneous, the engine sputtering back to life before she'd finished her statement.

"All right. We'll pop by, see if he's there, and call it a day when we find out he bolted."

Elsie had rolled her eyes as he brought the car back to life and issued his offer, having known that her words would do the trick.

"Deal."

_._

"I didn't realize being on the stage brought so much drama, Charles!" Alice commented, eyes chuckling as he continued regaling her with tales of backstage shenanigans. "I thought it was about _portraying _the drama, not living it!"

"You have no idea, Alice," He said, internally groaning at the thought. "And, worse still, is when the drama doesn't end!"

"What do you mean?"

He'd been on the verge of talking about the gossips in the group, the thespian snobs who hardly knew what they were talking about and still persisted in blathering on for ages — it was a classic complaint he shared with his friends when they needed a good laugh. But, a devious part of him wanted to go off-book. He couldn't, of course. Couldn't tell Alice that seeing a dear friend get hit on by those snobs year after year had him scowling with irritation. He had no real desire in sharing that or revealing that Charlie "harmlessly" flirting with Elsie even when the man was "only joking" was just as painstaking to observe. Didn't want to explain that there were moments where he craved to take a script only he knew and bring it to life with his best mate, where he yearned to create a permanent joint act and bring it into reality.

The problem was, there was no point to telling Alice any of this. Even if she encouraged him to give it a shot, it'd be futile. Without having to ask, Charles knew Elsie would want to stick a solid career instead of something that might not succeed — he felt similarly, after all. So the man stuck to working together and carrying on as the best of friends, content with the situation. He hadn't never dared to pitch the synopsis of his dream to her, knowing the conclusion would be undesirable at best and heartbreaking at worst. And, really, what would be point of ruining delightful friendship for something that wasn't a guarantee?

And, yes, this decision had its moments of pain over the course of their friendship. But, Charles knew that was as good as that was ever going to get.

So, he gave Alice something else.

"Well, one time, a rather large piece of the ceiling fell in the auditorium the very day we were set to perform. Needless to say, it posed a bit of a problem..."

"But, how did you manage? And on opening night?"

He cringed without much effort, thankful that the memory still distracted him as though it were only yesterday. And recalling just how they sorted out that infuriating problem, remembering the ordeals that had been endured over the course of those five hours, he let himself get lost in the story.

"Let's just say that everyone had a bonding experience for that particular show." Alice giggled at this, tickled by the fact that there was a lot more to that story. Though, surprisingly enough, even with an intrigued audience before him Charles found himself uninterested in sharing the rest of it. Nothing against her, of course; she struck him as a nice person and a kind friend. He'd just rather be recollecting this memory with another woman, someone who was undoubtedly miles away.

Still, this was proving to be a bit of fun. Even worth staying out for once, instead of going over his lines in solitude.

_._

They'd made it to _The Keys _far faster than should've been possible. What with Elsie determined to ensure the blind date was a success and Charlie determined to have a decent rehearsal for the first time in weeks, they arrived at the pub only seven minutes after the phone call with Phyllis.

For reference, it would've normally taken them at least fifteen.

Now it was just a matter of entering the place and seeing if Charles — the name she gave him only in her mind, she made sure not to slip aloud — was still there. If he was and somehow enjoying himself in the presence of the opposite sex, they'd undoubtedly make sure he stayed there for the sake of their future rehearsals. If he was instead still there and bonding with someone from the same sex, they'd reconsider why he'd been resisting their matchmaking efforts and leave him be. And if he was long gone, they'd figure out what to do when they found him.

And, no, the idea that their friend was an adult who could make his own decisions involving love was nowhere in sight, as both Elsie and Charlie were past the point of letting that be an excuse to leave him alone. That might've flown fifteen years ago, when they only got the occasional act together. But, with their performances intermingling on a weekly basis, the friends had long since blurred the lines of work and relationships.

"Just how do you want to go about this, Els?" Charlie asked, giving her pause as she thought the moment through. "If he's alone, shall I be tonight's date or you? Or should I be pinning him to his chair while you round up someone single?"

"Very funny, Charlie." She was hardly laughing. Unfortunately, in her haste to get here on time, the woman hadn't given herself a chance to fully plan out their next actions. Still, her lack of planning made sense: rarely were they this desperate that they'd go back to check in on Charles. Usually, they left him to his own devices and prayed for the best. But, after many of these occasions ending quite poorly, she no longer felt this could be the norm. If Charles was going to find romantic happiness and remember what it meant to hold this sort of love in his life, she had to help him where she could. The alternative only ended in his putting up more walls, tensing up even further in every situation, and letting his acting fall into even more subpar standards.

And, yes, all of those thoughts were her _only _reasons for letting herself get involved with her friend's love life.

"Well," Pausing in the entrance of the pub, Elsie continued to mull this situation over. They couldn't scare him away by barging in guns a-blazing like Americans. But taking too much time could result in his absence, _if_ he was still here. Add the fact that he was probably long gone and her mind couldn't help but blank on what action to take.

"Excuse me, but I need to make sure my friend isn't running away from a date right now." A brash voice, one that spoke of weary irritation, budged past them in the doorway as the owner of the voice maneuvered into the pub. "So if you both could move out of the way, that'd be great."

"Come again?" Elsie couldn't believe the words she'd just heard, thinking this to be far too coincidental to be reality. The red-headed woman paused in her maneuvering, turning around to shoot an annoyed look in the direction of the pair.

"I'll explain after I've saved the day, thanks." Charlie snorted at the attitude, finding this cheek entertaining and somewhat familiar. There just may be a kindred spirit in their midst. "Because I've spent too many months trying to get this one evening to go right to get distracted now."

If that statement didn't make it clear the woman was on a mission, nothing would.

Interestingly enough, although the redhead was on a mission and looked rather determined to be left alone, Elsie and Charlie found themselves accidentally loitering in her direction — something that repeatedly happened even as they began their own search. Whether it was due to her confident manner or simple coincidence, all three individuals seemed to unintentionally bond together over the idea of searching for their respective friends. This was to the point where they hardly minded walking the same paths in the pub, now more comrade-in-arms than strangers after the first few minutes.

"You don't happen to see him, do you?" Elsie asked Charlie, peering around the pub but still unable to find their friend anywhere. There were too many groups scattered among the couples, and nowhere could she detect a glaringly obvious vibe of awkwardness — something that'd give his location away at once.

"Do you think I'd be talking to you if I had?" The Scottish woman rolled her eyes at Grigg's cheek, too concerned about wanting this evening to be a success to have patience with him. It wasn't her fault that this night was turning into a disaster. And though a very small and incredibly devious part of her was relieved to jump to the conclusion that Charles Carson hadn't fallen in love tonight, the longtime friend in her was disappointed with the situation.

Eventually, the two friends and the redhead parted ways, each going to recheck different areas of the pub. Surprisingly, _The Keys _had enough going on it wasn't easy to confirm whether or not Charles or the stranger's elusive friend had departed just yet. But, even when the trio wasn't trying to bump into one another, their paths crossed once again.

"Did you find who you were looking for?" The stranger sighed in frustration at this question, looking back into the crowds in lieu of an answer.

"She's not— wait a minute!" A relieved beam quickly threw away any signs of defeat, the woman now grinning in delight. "Thank God: she didn't leave."

"Great." Elsie said, pleased for the woman. Though, when she saw Charles was also accompanied by someone tonight, she couldn't help the confusing pang that struck her at the sight. It was a terribly great sign of his interest if Charles had remained by this woman's side all this time, seeing as how though the pair had been together for about an hour. Still. She didn't know how she really felt about that, even after all this searching for him. "Looks like ours didn't leave either."

Now realizing that their respective missions were accomplished, there came a puzzlement about what to do next. The trio awkwardly stood together, not really sure about how to proceed from here. For Elsie and Charlie, it looked like Charles was actually conversing with some woman and wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. For the redheaded woman, it seemed like her friend — wherever that friend was — was in a similar mindset.

All in all, what with their tasks completed, there really wasn't a reason to stick around any longer. And even with the thrill of the search now wearing off, the trio couldn't help but feel a sense of pressing camaraderie — a desire to chat as a group and stick around a little while longer.

"So, you gonna go say hi to your friend?" Charlie asked, somewhat curious and not knowing what else to say.

"Why on earth would I do that?" The woman's sharp tone rebuked the thought immediately. "When she's _finally _on a date for the first time in literal months?"

"Oh, one of those." Elsie noted bemusedly, reminded of Charles at the thought. _What a funny coincidence_, she thought as she shoved aside the fact that she herself had not been on a date in years. The difference was, unlike Charles she had no need for romance with a stranger. Personally, love in general just didn't sound appealing after a decade or two of failed relationships. "It sounds like we're both in the same boat."

"Well, if we're in the same boat, then allow me to introduce myself." The redhead held out a hand, a look of understanding peeking out from her eyes. "Beryl Patmore."

"Elsie Hughes" She graciously shook the offered hand, turning to her companion, "And this is Charlie Grigg."

He, in turn, ditched the handshake for a toothy grin as he dramatically bowed his head — chuckling at her clear disinterest. But, before Charlie could continue to irritate the woman with his purposefully obnoxious manners, Elsie decided to move the subject back toward the original conversation.

"So, where's yours?" She asked Beryl, intrigued by the whole coincidence. It wasn't often they met someone who seemed to have the same problems as them, let alone someone who was a fellow matchmaker in disguise.

"Tucked away in that corner." The redhead said, pointing in the general vicinity of where Charles was.

"You're joking," Elsie was stunned, looking once again at that corner of the pub. Other than Charles' table, there wasn't another table in the secluded spot — something that, at the time, had made it easy to finally spot her long-time friend. With that observation, however, a wariness began to rise within the performer as she reached another conclusion.

And, this time, it wasn't a conclusion she drew relief from.

"Why would I be joking?" Beryl became a little suspicious, definitely not liking the sound of that bewilderment. It sounded too coincidental. After all, it couldn't possibly be that... "This friend of yours, where's he?"

"In that same corner." Came the honest, blunt response.

Grigg snorted, absolutely content to believe this bizarre little serendipity while the two incredulous women were less inclined. In fact, they were far more content to continue this little back-and-forth interrogation.

"Describe this friend of yours."

"Average height, dark hair, grey eyes, English, and daintier than a flower. Your turn,"

"Taller than Charlie, greying hair though he'll say otherwise, brown eyes, English, and sometimes more obstinate than he's worth."

Looking back at the table, Beryl took in this information quite well, all things considered. So did Elsie for that matter, the woman managing to resist the urge to bite her bottom lip even as she triple-checked the table to confirm the facts.

"They're with each other, aren't they?" Charlie piped up, already knowing the answer. For that obvious answer, he received two piercing glares, unison scoffing, and nothing more. "Does that mean we should go check in on them?"

"Don't you even dare!" "No, it does not!"

_._

"Should we tell them that they've been spotted?" Alice teasingly asked, having long since noticed Beryl's arrival. In fact, her noticing the redhead had pulled the conversation away from discussing her own work and toward discussing blind dates as a concept.

"No," Charles quickly said, blanching at the thought. "I have no desire to interact with such abhorrent matchmakers at this time."

"'Abhorrent matchmakers'?" She asked with a chuckle. "I've called Beryl many things, but _that _was never one of them. And I thought you liked Elsie."

"Well, just because I— Pardon me?"

"As a friend, of course," Although, in all honesty, she suspected it was more than friendship. As much as Charles had tried to regale her with tales about his general career, all stories wound up bringing Elsie Hughes in the picture. And though the man had repeatedly informed her that Elsie was only a friend, she knew what his eyes were really saying about the matter.

"Yes, of course."

Alice coolly raised an eyebrow, an understanding smile dancing on her lips. And though she felt she understood the situation, there was a emptiness in Charles' eyes that kept her sympathy and bemusement alive. A defeated look lined his face, one that spoke of something unnecessarily painful. Suddenly, it felt wrong to talk about Elsie or matchmaking. Whatever caused that emptiness, whatever brought on the defeat, she found herself wanting to take it away.

"Forgive me if it's not my place to say so," Alice's words were unnoticeably stilted, the woman trying to change the subject and failing to do so, "I just admire your friendship, that's all."

He nodded, looking relieved that she wasn't insinuating anything else. _Adorably hopeless, this one _came to mind even amidst her sympathetic wonderings. And though the urge to help him out grew by the minute, she resisted it. If the woman had learned anything about life, it was that it wasn't her place to interfere when it came to friends in love with one another. Interference could help to an extent, but it was on her friends to be honest with one another and sort out whatever it was that was going on.

Luckily for Alice's concern, it seemed like she didn't need to interfere all that much in order to help.

"To tell you the truth," Charles hesitantly began, looking as though he had something he wanted to get off his best. She inwardly sat up, maintaining a calm exterior even as she attentively leaned in. "I sometimes can't help but wonder if friendship's the best thing that there is."

"What do you think might be the 'best thing'?"

Her honest inquiry sat patiently for his reaction. His eventual response, one that took at least a minute to make?

"I'm not sure."

Alice nodded, wanting to reach out a hand to at least comfort him. But, if she knew tonight's date at all, that would be as helpful as bluntly telling him to take a chance with Elsie.

Maybe though, in this instance, a bit of prodding might help instead.

"Do you think love might be the best thing? Romantic love, that is."

She could see a thousand protestations form at the question, probably ingrained habits by now. But the woman also saw her companion tonight looked unable to actually say anything. She could only guess that a dam of arguments had quickly halted any unbidden words from seeping through. Yet, it really looked as though an even larger cascade of watery frustration wanted to be break through the dam with nary a second thought.

_My, my_, she inwardly chuckled at the dramatic thoughts. It seemed her companion's capability to perform had rubbed off her this evening, judging from the fact that her contemplations were never quite this flowery or, well, dramatic.

_._

"Do you think love might be the best thing? Romantic love, that is."

The air felt stifling and surreal, reality hitting him. Here he was, after years of denial, talking to a complete stranger about love of all things. Discussing something that would normally result in his opinion being mocked or dismissed. Candidly questioning his thoughts about a topic he never dreamed of mentioning in public, let alone with someone he'd just met.

Yet the funny thing was, he found it easy to trust her. Felt it was second-nature to be abnormally honest, instinctually knew that Alice Neal was a considerate soul who would hear him and suspend any personal judgment when it came to what he had to say.

At least, that was what he hoped to be the truth.

"I don't know." _But, that's not really accurate, is it, Charlie?_ "Maybe." _Now, we're getting closer to the truth._ "Sometimes."

Nine years was a decently long time by itself, all things considered. Nine years of denial was nearly unbearable.

And seeing as Alice was as likely to stay in his life as Elsie was to court him, capitulation on the subject wasn't going to be the end of the world. So, much as he wanted to mount verbal defenses and take on an offensive tone that would leave him well alone in this regard, there didn't seem to be harm in a little honesty.

It also didn't help that he was so tired of denial.

_._

"I suppose my answer is yes, isn't it?"

She didn't laugh at him even if she inwardly chuckled, knowing the feeling rather well. Charles didn't come off as the sort of person who talked about this stuff on a regular basis. And though he'd been initially guarded about this topic, she couldn't help but see the truth that lay within him. She found a sense of familiarity with his situation, understanding his thought process and recognizing it in herself.

"Only if you want it to be, I promise." Alice spoke as kindly as she could, not interested in hurting him or belittling his thoughts.

Her unexpected dinner companion faintly chuckled, distracted. Clearly he needed a second to regain his bearings, the man looking so terribly surprised with his admission. This confession, this conversation alone, may have unintentionally broken down walls that had irrefutably stood for years if not decades.

With that in mind, she hardly minded giving him a minute and letting the conversation be for now.

So, in an effort to give him breathing space, Alice found her gaze drawn to the trio desperately trying to discreetly observe them from a nearby corner in the room. Beryl she could spot a mile away, the redhead a comforting blaze of humour and cheek in the unknown crowd. The man standing next to her, the one with the toothy grin that had Alice cringing a little, seemed good-natured enough. Immature, undoubtedly, but there was a sense of responsibility etching itself into his skin — no doubt, a result of Charles' long-standing influence. This was probably that Grigg character that had occasionally sprung into tonight's stories, the one who somehow brought both frustration and fun to the table.

Still, it was the third person in the group Alice found herself most interested in. The woman with the guarded blue eyes, the one whose smile felt lacking in warmth as it glanced at their table. But the same woman who held flecks of undeniable fondness in her countenance, the same woman who couldn't keep her eyes from Charles even when the man had his back to her.

Truly, reality was obvious here.

And that reality was obvious helped her make a decision with all of this.

"Right. Maybe I should let that kind of love go." Her unintentional date this evening wearily spoke, clearly quite oblivious to the blue-eyed woman's discreetly given attention. This brought back Alice's focus to Charles, to this man that she had enjoyed the company of but felt nothing more than a friendship for. "Just as well, I suppose. I don't think it's meant for me."

She hummed in disapproval, "I can't suppose that's 'just as well'." Alice retorted, her dainty features giving way to her frank message. And, judging from the fact her words twisted his demeanour into a startled expression, she could continue uninterrupted. "Personally, I believe love is meant for everyone. Sometimes, we just don't always see it."

Charles looked at her with a shielded countenance, poised to tersely debate the topic further. But she remained deliberately open and relaxed in her expression, willing herself to being at ease with the situation. Whether or not he was uncomfortable about this conversation, she was quietly determined to remain calm and open-minded so as to demonstrate that there was nothing to fear. He didn't have to remain on the edge of his seat for her sake.

He could just talk to her.

And, soon enough, the tension sank out of him as he gave her words more of his attention, currently more intrigued than he was nervous. There was even a hint of hope in those brown irises, though she wouldn't dare to comment on that while he was still in the process of opening up to her.

"All right. Maybe that's possible." Although he didn't look like he believed her, the man did look like he sincerely wanted to humour the thought. "So, what do you propose I do, Alice? Any advice?"

"Charles, what I propose you do," She began after a brief contemplation, "And what will actually happen are almost guaranteed to be two very different things."

He couldn't help but give a hearty chortle at this, garnering attention for his unrestrained laughter. But it was true: as any performer of the stage would say, things rarely went according to proposals or plans. And it was delightfully refreshing to hear someone explicitly say as much.

"Very true," The man conceded, keeping his response unusually brief. "Still, I'd love any advice you have to offer."

Staring him down, Alice thought the matter over again. It was rare to cross paths with someone like him — someone who was clearly scared of vulnerability and still relatively open to understanding their feelings if prodded enough. Combine that with the realization that Charles did come off as someone who'd take any advice she had for him, instead of sweeping it away with the breadcrumbs of their meal, and she knew this was an unusual opportunity. That, despite whatever had been holding him back for years, he was exhausted by this set-up and willing to consider a shift in directions. That, if there was a chance to change the path he was on, he'd honestly take it.

"Well, if you really want to know," The woman teasingly started, though her eyes reflected nothing but a serious manner within them. And it was this manner that had him focused solely on her, that had him trust what she had to say.

It just so happened that she did have an idea or two.

And, with any luck, it just might work.


	2. That Unrehearsed Desperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> __   
“All the world’s a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed.” - Séan O’Casey
> 
> **Author’s Note: **  
A bit shorter than the previous one, but that’s because this is more exposition and explanation than it is action. However, never fear! Action will soon be on the way, we just need to explain a few things. Also! We’re going to tread through some angsty thoughts. But, because it’s me, I can’t let it be a pure-angsty chapter -- though, we do have consistent introspection. Either way, I hope you enjoy!  
**Word Count: **  
4,557

It had all started quite innocuously. Maybe, innocuously wasn't the right word. But, she was an actress, not an English teacher. Anyway, it wasn't as though she'd woken up the next morning and immediately recalled her foolish mistake. It'd taken her a little more time than that, if she were being entirely honest.

In fact, when she finally woke up the next morning, Elsie Hughes had almost entirely forgotten what had happened the night prior. She'd groggily woken up to a fuzzy duvet, drowsily breathing in the scent of relatively fresh linens and snuggling deeper into the comfort embracing her. The only thoughts that came to her mind were those that came with being enveloped in that delectable haze only sleep brought. She was stirring to consciousness with the help of her ever-so-soft pillow, imagining for one indulgent breath that she wasn't alone in this bed and—

And realizing that she'd made an absolute fool of herself last night.

That wasn't to say that she'd actually done anything to make a fool of herself. Except, that wasn't really true either, was it? _She_ had been the one to push Charlie into driving back to _The Keys_ and she had been the one to insist on orchestrating the whole blind date in the first place. And, yes, it was true she hadn't bothered to interrupt Charles or Alice when they saw them, which was something. However, what had happened next — courtesy of her earlier obstinate acts, no doubt — was far worse:

Charlie had decided to intervene and turn the little fiasco into a mortifying mess.

After waiting about ten minutes for Charles or even Alice to spot the newfound trio in the crowd — the trio being Beryl, Charlie, and Elsie, that is — Grigg had taken it upon himself to find out just who Alice was. He, much to Beryl and Elsie's combined horror, had gone as far as walking up to the couple and tactlessly interrupting their conversation when it was obvious the two wanted to be left alone.

Truly, how he managed to get a job as an actor was astonishing. Yes, Charlie could be somewhat brilliant on the stage, she couldn't deny that. She just also couldn't believe someone so tactless was well-liked enough that people genuinely wanted him in their shows.

Anyway, Charlie had ruined any chance for anyone's escape with his barging in on the couple. Which meant the trio had two options: either awkwardly walk away and let the pair carry on with their affai— evening together, or clumsily offer to join forces and get drinks, the five of them.

Yes, well, with Charlie being the exceedingly deviant person he was, the quintet formed itself immediately. And, yes, the man had even managed to effortlessly snatch up three extra chairs for the table Charles and Alice had taken. So, that way, the group wouldn't be forced to leave the pub. They could just carry on as though this were a normal occurrence. In other words, she only had ten seconds to scurry over and hastily figure out who she wanted to be squashed next to for however long this stupid evening carried on.

Did she mention how tactless her friend was?

Or how, lately, she kept getting the urge to throttle him?

Anyway, throttling-urges aside, fate persisted in repeatedly abandoning her last night. That would be because Charlie had plopped himself down in the center of their new set-up the second he could. And, since the three chairs had been positioned in a row alongside the couple's table, that meant her seating companions were now either Charlie and Charles or Charlie and Alice. And, with Beryl immediately taking the seat closer to the grey-eyed beauty, that really only left one option.

_Do you not suppose we ought to find a new pub for drinks?_

It had been a suggestion repeatedly made when she realized how cramped their sitting like this would be. It was really only a desperate attempt to maneuver out of this fiasco in the making, but it'd been shot down with Charlie's reminder that all pubs at this hour would be just like this.

Clearly, judging from his blithe responses of the last hour, the man hadn't understood the problem at hand.

Or, worse still, he had understood perfectly well and was choosing to ignore everything.

Either way, that was then. Today, this morning, she only had an hour to get herself together or she'd be late to rehearsal for the first time in five years. Which, after the disastrous evening that had been yesterday, she was determined not to do. Elsie had no desire to draw any attention to herself, not after last night.

Though, really, it's not as though they genuinely pay her any mind these days. That much was evident by the last month or two. Although Charles' acting had clearly been suffering a lot lately, her own talent and energy had been gradually diminishing these last few weeks. There was just something getting in the way, something stopping her from really connecting to the craft lately. But, whether she connected to it or not, no one had really picked up on it. No one seemed to realize a single thing was wrong.

Of course, she wasn't an actor for nothing.

But she'd half-expected her best mates to have at least noticed _something_.

Anyway, whether anyone else noticed or not, the performer knew what this job was supposed to be like. She knew what it'd felt like to perform when they were all starting to really get into the heart of it. She knew what it felt like to gracefully absorb an ovation from hundreds, to truly understand why they spent weeks memorizing the sketches and rehearsing for months on end.

The problem was, these days, it wasn't the same.

And last night had slapped her into realizing that.

That wasn't to say that everything was hopeless or something like that. She was an actor whose specialty did _not_ lie with viewing the world in the form of Shakespearean tragedies. It's just that last night had served to coldly inform her that nothing was the same anymore.

And, worse still, there was nothing about it that she could change.

For instance, seeing Charles looking so energized by his conversation with Alice — a natural chemistry overtaking the pair as they effortlessly chatted the night away — she realized that things were going to change with all of that. Which turned into thinking about her own life when it came to love, recalling how all of those romantic notions had gone for her as well as her career. Which had brought up another round of remembering how her career really was beginning to slowly crash and burn these days, something that also wasn't really likely to change anytime soon as much as she wished otherwise.

So, it turns out that things may be coming to an end for her. Perhaps, that just meant it was time to try something different. Similarly, she could bet that Charles would be doing the exact same thing whenever Alice finally convinced him to leave the stage-life behind.

Because, that's what would happen for him.

She'd seen it before and she'd see it again, there was no doubt of that.

Theatre was one of the many careers that required almost complete devotion. Auditions, rehearsals, performances, so much needed to happen on a routinely basis if someone wanted to find work in this industry. There could be no breaks or holidays, not if one wanted to make this their living. And, if Charles was going to take this relationship with Alice seriously — which, seeing as how he took everything seriously, that was going to be the case — he'd have to eventually choose between her or the career.

But, of course, that's why Elsie had never involved herself with anyone. Especially not when she realized the path she'd be taking. It was highly unlikely that someone outside of the theatre world would understand the level of dedication required to succeed. And of those within this world, friends and coworkers alike, she already knew the answers to those questions. She'd long since discovered who would want to involve themselves with both her _and _their career: no one, obviously.

And why should they?

What with it being so hard to maintain success one way or the other, why should someone decide to risk both?

Anyway, while there had been a brief moment from a very, very long time ago — a moment wherein she'd been terribly close to giving up her career for the sake of a love — that was no longer a part of her reality.

Still, just because the woman had chosen the stage didn't necessarily mean the stage wanted her after all this time. Although she did continually captivate audiences, something had been lacking as of late. Something was missing from the shows; there was an invigorating spark that came with the experience, one that seems to have disappeared these days.

And it's that growing absence that sometimes makes her wonder what she's really supposed to do.

That's not to say it's all been a waste, mind.

There are parts of this work that she would always want to hold onto. For instance, influencing people through her craft. Giving someone a reason to keep going in life and enjoy what the world had to offer — that was and probably always would be a part of her life, if not her career. Walking off of the stage and knowing she'd astonished a crowd, that was also still a nice treat that kept her in the limelight. Bowing to another series of approval, acknowledging another successful run in the spotlight, these were old habits formed over the years that she'd definitely continue to cherish.

But, something was missing. And she couldn't help wondering if this absence was all there was for her now. If, by dedicating herself to this craft for all these years, she'd unintentionally missed out on a lot more that the world had to offer. That, she'd inadvertently wasted her precious time by never daring to step off the stage. That, by solely working on her career as an actor, she'd lost her chances to enjoy other parts of life.

Maybe, in retrospect, she might have had a happier time had she taken that old opportunity with _him_. Back then, when the world had felt like a choice of either relationship happiness or career satisfaction. Maybe moving back home and dropping the act would've been the right move, would've made her happier than she ever thought.

But Elsie _had_ been happy over these years. Perhaps it was all starting to fall apart now, now that she was realizing everything that she'd possibly missed out on, the lost chances. But there had been happiness. There had been a revitalizing success over the years, an enchanting exhilaration that trailed after her when weeks of performing had continually ended in triumph. There were many times where she'd had a chance to understand herself much more as an actor and a person, when she knew she'd learned so much more by staying here than by walking away.

  
And, if it hadn't been for her career, she wouldn't have the brilliant friendships she had today. Charlie Grigg, for all his throttle-inducing antics, was one of her dearest friends. And, Charles Carson, despite his incessantly perfectionist tendencies, was someone she was incredibly thankful to have met.

So, maybe there hadn't been a life with _him _or a chance to really see the world beyond a stage. But she had Charles and Charlie because of this, and maybe even Beryl now that they've exchanged contact information. She also had a greater understanding of humanity's motivations and of her own personal beliefs, she had many meaningful accomplishments that were solely thanks to this way of life.

So, no.

It hadn't all been a waste.

Elsie Hughes just didn't know what to do now that it all looked to be coming to some sort of end.

_._

It'd taken only seconds for Charles Carson to recall the enthralling dream that had been last night. That is, if by dream he meant the disconcerting nightmare that had turned into some sort of strange, philosophically intimate discussion before resolving itself into a curiously surreal fantasy he never thought possible.

Or, more simply, he couldn't stop thinking of the plot twist that was the prior evening. Meeting Alice, being shocked into staying with her for the rest of dinner, and then having the unexpectedly confusing pleasure of Elsie and Charlie as well as that of the oddly hilarious Beryl Patmore. All in all, last night had been a peculiar set-up that retained a sense of bizarreness even as it turned into something fair more enjoyable.

Of course, in the beginning of it all, he'd been expecting it to turn into something far worse. He'd honestly been prepared to walk away in a huff, having anticipated something much more different.

Originally, he was infuriated with Grigg's antics. Not just because his friend had been unnecessarily crass and intrusive, but also because Alice had quite literally been getting into the heart of her advice. So, make no mistake: he had been deeply irritated with his friend's thoughtless self-insertion, especially considering that progress was _finally _being made. Because, after finally confessing his own feelings on the matter and finding someone who could possibly help him with all of this, that's the moment when Charlie bloody Grigg decided to unexpected pop by and ruin everything.

However, when Charles recognized that Elsie would be joining them and he'd have a chance to enjoy her company for an evening away from the stage, a budding sense of joy had taken over the initial vexation. The irritation hadn't vanished, not by any means, but it certainly subsided. And when he realized that he would be able to spend an entire evening with her right by his side because of a strange twist in fate?

That had changed the entire scene for him.

And soon enough, he truly found himself feeling more at ease with Charlie once he realized that. Not entirely satisfied with the situation, but much more at peace with the whole thing. Especially when there was the accidental brushing up against Elsie — the moments being quite unintentional on both of their parts but absolutely enjoyable, nevertheless.

And, yes, this level of ease was to a point that when Alice occasionally shot him that knowing hint of a smile — a playful twitch of the lips small enough only he would spot it — he felt only a growing confidence. None of the normal flustering embarrassment flooded him at the sight; he really felt more comfortable with the situation now that he'd spoken his bit. Instead of feeling mortified by his emotions, his earlier admission had only seemed to release a tension that had riddled his body for years.

That didn't mean to say he wasn't somewhat terrified by what might go wrong.

Only that he did make some sort of personal peace with the matter.

So, at the very least, there was a legitimate chance for change. Having never experienced this sort of carefree attitude about the subject, never before feeling this steadying hope that was gradually rising within him, Charles was able to believe that it could get better from here. And, perhaps, she would not return his feelings. It was entirely possible that she only saw a friendship or companionship between the two of them, that his type of love for her would end up being rejected in this matter.

However, after nine years or so of denying the truth, he had to try.

Especially now that he had shared his secret.

Of course, really trying for anything couldn't have happened last night. Sharing his feelings in front of strangers and Charlie Grigg would've made the matter a great deal worse, undoubtedly. And, even had there been an option for candour, he wouldn't have taken it: his dearest friend had been unusually withdrawn that evening, radiating a worn-down air of resignation. One that didn't speak well for any unexpected confessions.

So, regardless of what she may or may not feel for him, last night had definitely not been the right time.

In any case, he could only suppose that it made sense: she'd had an arduous day with arranging this evening on top of their normal rehearsal. Therefore, it made perfect sense that she'd be exhausted. In fact, he'd normally be right there with her. Not literally, of course, but in the sense that he was usually too tired to do anything after their rehearsals. And, if he did do anything after a long day, it was only further rehearsing on his own instead of, say, proceeding to go on a blind date and subject himself to further human interaction.

And, his own feelings aside, there was even more reason for her exhaustion. After all, she hadn't been _going_ on a blind date; she'd been the one to _concoct_ said blind date — something that would undoubtedly take a great deal of energy. And then, to suddenly find out that her original concept had been ditched in favour of something unpredictable would have been more stressful than he could imagine. If he'd been the one in charge of such an endeavour, he probably would've been as worn down as Elsie had looked, if not more so.

Which, speaking of the blind date, that was a whole other matter in it of itself. The orchestration really was something that didn't necessarily speak well of her feelings toward him. Why would someone who felt something for you want to set you up with other people? He'd tried to reason it out by treating this all as though it were a play or sketch to be performed — if only to try to understand the motivations behind a character like Elsie. However, he found himself unable to draw out a satisfactory reasoning through this process.

That's not to say that he wouldn't figure it all out at some point; only that it still made no sense after giving the matter some thought.

Initially, he'd been quick to assume that such actions would imply a character who truly didn't have any romantic feelings for her friend. But, then the traitorous side of his brain had contemplated whether or not she'd been doing this because she'd concluded _he _had no feelings for _her_. That she had somehow gotten it into her head that he only saw her as a friend or colleague, and thus had figured she'd just be the best friend she could be. Which confused him a great deal because he thought his feelings were fairly obvious, even if he couldn't outright admit them. Not only that, why would someone feel that way and act like that for years? Surely, with that attitude in mind, she'd have found someone else within that timespan, someone who seemed far more likely to return her feelings?

But, then Charles didn't like where his thoughts were going when it came to thinking about Elsie and other people. And, so, he needed to return back to the surreal conversation that was last night instead of staying trapped in those dismaying thoughts. Because even if last night had been more ethereal than anything else — meeting someone who looked to unquestioningly accept his thoughts and feelings _and _didn't try to get something for themselves out of the situation — he at least had more of a grasp on contemplating that part of the situation.

So, going back to the concept of a blind date as a whole. As his new friend mentioned, this orchestration did show that Elsie did care about his happiness. That, at the very least, she did want him to find a different sort of happiness for himself. Not only that, but as Alice had pointed out seconds before Grigg had so rudely interrupted them both, Elsie had returned to _The Keys_. Had she only cared about him to an extent wherein she thought their friendship was some sort of career obligation — a concept that had become a personal fear the more he pondered the motivation behind these blind dates — she would have left him alone tonight.

However, she had come back. She had come back, and she had even searched the place a few times just to find him. Which meant that, yes, things were complicated between the two of them. Things were not as black-and-white in his world as he really would've liked. And things definitely did not carry as much sense as he wanted them to.

But there was hope. It may have taken him nine years to get to this point, and it may take a lot more to bring it any further. However, there really was hope for something more between the two of them.

And, furthermore, it was also becoming clearer by the day that he needed to act in some fashion. The man could no longer wait for the world to change for him or for an opportunity to find its way to him. Because, yes, it was true that life was changing much more than he anticipated. And opportunity did exist; that much was proved by last night. However, at the rate he'd been going, it'd take another nine years for him to say anything. And while that may have been acceptable the past, he couldn't let that be his present. He had to take this nine-year old lesson to heart as best as he could and do something while he had the chance.

So, no.

Charles Carson may not know exactly what to do about all of this.

But, by no means did that make any of these last nine years a waste.

_._

Let it be known that Charlie Grigg thought his friends were idiots. He loved them as much as he could, but that didn't mean he didn't think them to be idiots.

What was it, ten years or so of beating around the bush? A little under a decade of heated stares, of devoted looks they thought no one else saw? Years of _accidentally _bumping into each other backstage in _every_ sense of the word as well as other stupid interactions throughout rehearsals?

He may pride himself on acting stupid, but he wasn't actually an idiot.

And, then, in the course of one evening, everything went from laughable to downright embarrassing. Because Elsie Hughes couldn't let the matter go. And, he wasn't just talking about her "coaxing" him into going back to _The Keys_. He was talking about these matchmaking schemes of hers, schemes he could only assume were going on because she couldn't handle the fact that she liked both Charlie _and _the job.

Honestly, how she's managed to avoid slipping up and giving her secret away was absolutely a mystery. Yes, Elsie wasn't nearly as obvious as he thought her to be, he could admit that. He just still couldn't get over the fact that someone as brilliant as her was able to be so stupid about this.

But Charles Carson, in his personal opinion, was worse. Much worse.

Originally, Charlie had been irritated with the man because Carson literally only ever talked about the job. No words of a life outside of work would reach him, no advice on how to live life was ever taken. In all honesty, Charlie had really tried to get his mate to step out of his shell over the years, had tried to persuade him to live a life outside of the stage. Because no one should be that devoted to any one _thing_, it just wasn't healthy.

That was when he realized Charles Carson had only been using the craft as a shield. That acting was an excuse to refrain from being with the real world. And when Grigg realized that his mate was hellbent on spending his only free time alone or with people he didn't genuinely care for just to avoid a woman he obviously loved? Just because of the impossible chance she'd reject him?

That had turned an encore of frustration into an ovation of displeasure.

Because running away never solved anything.

It only wore you down and created more problems for you in the end.

But, this was the life Charles Carson had decided to take on for himself. And Charlie Grigg knew far better than to ever interfere when someone's made up their mind like that. So, he left it alone. Left it alone, focused on their gigs, and tried to remember just why they were all mates in the first place.

He managed to accomplish all of those goals.

Though, let it be known that it was a close call on more than one occasion.

And, just because he'd officially left the whole thing alone didn't mean it didn't bother him from time to time. Didn't mean he wasn't internally groaning at the stupidity of these two idiots when they were being particularly dense. And it really didn't mean that he didn't have half a mind to lock them in that tiny closet they called a Green Room one of these days.

So, of course, when his friend had finally, begrudgingly agreed to the rare blind date, Grigg felt more than a tinge of relief. He thought progress had been made on at least one front. He'd been pleased that something was finally changing. Maybe they were both still being complete idiots, but there was a chance for at least Charlie to redeem himself.

And, of course, redemption really hadn't happened. Not until last night, apparently. But, even then, the jury was still out — understandably so, if he was reading the situation right. If he was right, there was still a chance of redemption on both of their parts. But, nothing was guaranteed in life and nothing was _ever _guaranteed with these two.

All in all, Charlie still had issues with the set-up. Especially when they both insisted on being stupid about everything. If their feelings for each other were different, if they didn't actually feel the way they clearly do, he'd be fine with the situation. But, he knew just from watching them all this time what they really thought of one another. While he didn't consider himself a sap or overly sentimental, someone who could be easily blinded by this sort of stuff, he did know their truth.

Still, like he said before, interfering would only land him in a whole lot of trouble, quite possibly with them both. The actor recognized that they needed to work this out by themselves. And even though he also heard bits and pieces of what Alice Neal had said to Charlie last night, having guessed the woman's intentions with the barest of clues, he also knew it really wasn't his place to get involved. That woman could get herself in trouble with his friends when it all exploded in everyone's face. But he was going to maintain a safe distance if and when it all went down in flames.

So, yes.

Charlie Grigg wasn't going to waste his time by figuring out something to do, not now.

But, if it took them another ten years to get their act together, he wouldn't be held responsible for his actions. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note: **   
Hope you’ve enjoyed this variation on perspective! There will be more action in the next one, I promise. And, of course, it should be coming out sometime within the next 2-3 days. Regardless, have a lovely day! ‘Till next time!


	3. That Synonymous Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“In the language of an actor, to know is synonymous with to feel.”_ \-- Constantin Stanislavski
> 
> **Author’s Note: **  
We’re jumping ahead a little in the timeline. And, as promised, action will arriving practically from the start!
> 
> **Technical/Text Note: **If the text **_looks like this _** that means it’s a text message in the story!
> 
> **Warning: **  
Slight cursing going on in this one -- courtesy of a certain redhead. She’s the main culprit in this offense, and it’ll only be closer to the end, but I know it can be disorienting suddenly seeing curse words.  
**Word Count: **  
7,980

Staring up at the ceiling in dismay as was becoming her daily habit, Elsie Hughes refrained from contemplating the mistakes of this last week for a seventeenth time. She’d missed her cues _ thrice _— a rarity in itself for the woman — and she even found herself forgetting a monologue she'd had memorized for months. But, that wasn’t the most disappointing bit to this week: the most disappointing bit was abysmally failing to bring any life to their numerous rounds of improv. 

_ Those _mistakes were practically unforgivable in her eyes because improv was really what brought her to the stage, what allowed her to thrive in this world. For Charlie and Charles, scripted acts tended to be their best work — though, Charlie seemed pretty flexible as a whole. However, for her improv was the core of her career. Working on the fly, improvisation itself, this was something she always adored because there was a system in the actions. The system didn’t remain fixed in its way for all of eternity and it certainly wasn't obvious to the untrained eye. But there was indeed a system. And, not only that, this system had always made sense to her over the years, being a rock of sorts for when the rest of the world had occasionally fallen apart.

Except that rock looked to crumbling right within her grasp. Because, these days, not even improv could do anything for her. Much like Charlie had said over drinks only yesterday, it was as though she and Charles had started to swap spots in regards to atrocious acting. His words were obviously not as eloquent because he was never that eloquent. Still, eloquence hardly mattered when his essential message was spot on.

And the worst part of _that_?

She only had herself to blame.

_ Four times. _Four times had she discovered that her best mate was dipping out for an early dinner or a mid-day lunch with the charming Alice Neal in the last two weeks. Four scenes of sheepish smiles and awkward goodbyes, four moments in which she wanted to kick herself for being so stupid and far too stubborn for her own good. It’d been about two weeks of these frustrating interludes, an overture of mortification that was all thanks to her. Thanks to her trying to control the fiasco that had been the _The Keys_, she was losing him to some stranger. Someone who was clearly brilliant and absolutely deserving of Charles’ company, and someone she get along with in any other circumstance. But, also someone she couldn't stand. Because this was someone who’d be stealing him away from the stage the moment this officially carried on into . Which it would. Much to her guilt-ridden irritation.

Yes, well, it may not be fair but it was becoming reality by the minute. Every day her friend seemed more and more enamored with life, more taken with everything. And though that did mean he was smiling at her more often, carrying a certain air that almost had her forgetting all about Alice bloody Neal, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t see what was going on. It didn't mean she couldn't tell what she was about to lose.

Well, Elsie couldn’t just take it all sitting down. Berating herself forever about this wouldn’t get her anywhere. She had to take action, had to do something while there was still a chance. Because Elsie Hughes may be a bit of a coward when it came to this sort of thing, but she couldn’t run away forever. And she may be losing a colleague and friend, but that didn’t mean he had to be gone forever. There was always a chance of life changing for the better, she just needed to do something about it.

So. Here she was. Finally sending that text she'd been meaning to send for ages.

** _Are you free for dinner tonight? -- EH_ **

Swiftly tossing the phone onto the bed beside her, forcibly rolling over and away from it so as to avoid whatever was next, the actor closed her eyes and focused on taking in deep breaths to distract from this. If anything, breathing seemed to help a little. It helped to take her mind away from the step she’d just taken, the step that might lead to nowhere but just might lead otherwise.

Truly, nine years, six months, and some odd days was a lot of time to work through. 

She couldn’t help herself if she still needed a minute or two to breathe.

_._

_ “You’re still helping him out with all of that? Hasn’t it been like six years?” _

Alice Neal smiled to herself as she unpacked her lunch, pleased to have a break from the humdrum task that was a 9-5 office job. Cubicle life did suit her more than she had ever anticipated, it was true. But, that didn’t mean she was necessarily happy to be where she was in life.

“Of course I’m still helping him with all of that. And it’s only been two weeks for me.” Beryl had found out about the whole situation halfway through last week, when Alice couldn’t help but keep bringing up Charles. The redhead had already gotten hints of what was going on, but last week had only confirmed reality. The problem — the problem for the Beryl, that is — was that it was obvious Alice only had a great deal of fondness for the man, nothing more. So all this planning wasn’t even going to benefit her friend’s love-life. It was just another way of helping someone else. “And may I remind you that he did _ask_ for help.”

_ “Yes, I’m sure he did. But she’s not going to be pleased when she finds out _ ** _that’s _ ** _ why he’s been so secretive lately.” _

“Are you so sure of that?” Because she had a theory that Elsie Hughes would be willing to put up with more than normal when she realized what reality was. Granted, that didn’t mean Alice wouldn’t be receiving some sort of lecture about meddling in other people’s lives. But the grey-eyed woman didn’t really mind that, not if it accomplished the overall goal of getting Charles and Elsie together.

_ “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to!” _Chuckling over her chicken sandwich, Alice was inwardly pleased to be talking about something much more interesting than administrative tasks. She could fake interest in invoices as much as the next person; it only meant that she was all too happy for chances like these where she could just chat about whatever she wanted.

“Which, reminds me: you two will be meeting up in a few days, right?” After the blind date, the matchmakers had agreed to remain in touch. But texting hadn’t sufficed for Beryl Patmore and Elsie Hughes. No, the two women agreed that they’d inevitably have to hang out in-person at least once. Something that Alice had been excited to hear more about, if only for Charles’ sake. Maybe she could convince Beryl to probe the subject with Elsie. At the very least, she could see about discreetly getting an answer or two out of the woman.

_ “Yeah, we’ve got a plan to— oh, don’t even think about involving me in this!” _Smirking a little now, the office worker felt far more mischievous than normal.

“Why would I want to do that? You’re busy enough as it is with Bert.” Outright grinning now that she could hear the blush coming from the other end of the phone, “I was only curious.”

_ “Sure you were. And a soufflé can sit forever.” _ Snorting to herself, Alice was pleased to hear that even Beryl found the situation curious. The redhead wouldn’t be bringing up the subject if she felt otherwise. _ “And, I’ll have you know I _ ** _will _ ** _ be seeing Bert later this week.” _

“Good! I’m glad to hear it!” That budding relationship had happened all on its own, something that she’d had been enchanted to inadvertently witness. A chance encounter in the queue at Tesco had led to the pair hitting it off. And though it had taken them both about a year or so to realize that the other was in fact single and interested, they did eventually manage to figure it out, much to Alice’s unabashed delight.

_ “Yeah, I’m sure you are. And do you know why that’s the case? Why we ended up getting together? Because no one thought to make a match of us!” _

“Oh, but is it _ really _ matchmaking in this instance? I’m only giving a friend some advice and letting him take it from there. I’m not setting them up on dates, I’m not pushing them into closets—”

_ “Well, that’s something! When Edna had tried her ‘charming’ closet routine on Tom, I knew at once she was to be avoided!” _

“Oh, no, I definitely don’t think that’s necessary.” Though, perhaps, if the pair somehow wound up in a closet by complete accident, she might have to rethink her original strategy. Of course, she couldn’t get too entrenched in this. There was a reason she hadn’t tried to solve Charles’ problems on the spot that evening, why she hadn’t mentioned her own ideas until he’d asked for help.

Alice Neal had had plenty of romantic experiences with all sorts of people. And, if she had learned one thing, it was that romance would only come when it was time. You couldn’t shove it into someone’s life. And it really wouldn’t work if nothing wasn’t there. You could guide it in a direction, try to bring down a certain path. But, love insistently clung to its own route regardless of what you wanted.

Of course, knowing that and remembering that every time was difficult. Which is why, after having tried to help other friends out over the last few decades, she’d eventually decided to call it quits with that sort of help. When it usually only ended in someone making a fool of themselves because she’d tried to interfere, she’d been determined to remove herself from the situation altogether.

Which is also why Charles’ case had been so strangely nice and refreshing. Here was someone she’d only just met, who had felt comfortable enough to reveal his true feelings on something that wasn’t everyday conversation. He hadn’t defended himself like she might’ve, hadn’t really put up all the walls most people normally did. And when she realized that it wasn’t unrequited — because, seriously, if Elsie didn’t return his feelings then Alice was a giraffe — it became really, _ really _difficult not to want to act. Which is _also_ why she’d been so grateful he’d been all for listening to her advice.

_ “You still there, Alice?” _

_ Oops. _The woman had gotten caught up in her thoughts once again, not a rare occurrence if she was being honest, “Of course, Beryl. Where else would I be?”

_ “I dunno, Maybe the cubicle from hell?” _And as the conversation effortlessly shifted into humourous, familiar territory, the two ladies continued to chatter on for as long as they could.

_._

Glancing down at the text he’d just caught sight of, the man couldn’t help but beam in newfound appreciation, his heart soaring at the thought. A dinner with her was another chance to bring all of this to light, an opportunity to right this wrong. And while he was so very nervous to go about that, to take this dinner and possibly bring the truth further into the light, he really couldn’t help himself now. It was like his admission had spurred a determination to just go for this — a thought that he never thought himself possible of having. 

It would eventually strike the man that he needed to officially respond, that he couldn’t bask in the changes that were quite possibly already on their way. Still, first and foremost, an appreciation for how much had changed in the last week. How different everything felt now, how different everything was already becoming. 

** _I’d like that very much. -- CC_ **

He was just happy to be progressing. To actually see some development in this regard, after everything had seemed futile. To know that they quite possibly could be dating soon enough, maybe even something more if Alice was to be trusted, was astonishing.

But, his newfound friend had faith in him. 

Enough faith to keep him going with all of this, that’s for sure.

_._

_ And just where are you two off to? _

The actor had known something was off when his two best mates had been hellbent on running through every part of the rehearsal as quickly as possible today. They apparently thought they could be clever by heading off in different directions once they were done for the day, he going through the main way-out of the auditorium while she snuck out through the backstage exit. But their timing was far too in-sync to fool him. Nah, none of it fooled him for a minute.

No, Charlie Grigg knew the pair had something going on, no matter how they tried to play it off. He knew their nervous energy much too well to be fooled into thinking that there wasn’t something between the two of them. And the fact that they’d both hit all of their cues today, nailed their timing for the first time in weeks, and even managed to continuously laugh a bit at everyone’s over-done jokes — it was a little too “nervous” to translate into anything else other than a secret meeting.

Well, when tomorrow would bring them both clumsily walking in, looking incredibly pleased and incredibly flustered about whatever was going on, he’d confirm that something had happened. Knowing them, it’d just be a dinner with drinks and nothing else. Because these were the prudes he decided to be friends with. These were the lovebirds he planned on staying with through thick and thin. And, really, these idiots of his could probably make a date out of holding each other’s hands for five minutes and that’d last them for the year, at this rate.

Yeah, they were definitely something else.

And he’d never admit it to their faces, but it was a bit adorable. 

And, if he ever _ did _ admit it, he’d _ never _ use that word.

_._

** _Maybe we should avoid The Keys this time? -- CC_ **

She had been in perfect agreement from the start, feeling that it was a little too close to home — what with that evening still fresh in everyone’s mind even two weeks later. So, they’d settled for something in a different part of town, a pub that was tasteful enough for his snobbish standards and casual enough to suit her.

Approaching the table with a faint smile of his own, feeling comfortable now that the stage was a distant memory, “Phyllis Baxter, I presume?”

She gave that endearing snort of hers, looking up from her menu: 

“Actually, I prefer Alice Neal.” Beaming in fondness, “You wouldn’t happen to prefer Joseph Moseley, would you?”

Chuckling at what had rapidly become an inside joke, Charles made to join the grey-eyed woman where she sat. When she had texted him to see if he were available to run through some ideas over dinner, he'd been so pleased. It made all of this feel a little less it was on him to figure out, like there was a chance to really make this work and he really did have support for once. So, eyeing the menu as he began to make small-talk, “You know, I think Elsie mentioned something about that friend of hers accidentally crossing paths with that Mr. Moseley.”

“Oh? Did it go well?” 

“You know, I think it did.” Looking off into the distance, briefly wondering if that meant his own luck had somehow diminished because someone else had succeeded, “At the very least, they’re getting along.”

“Well, now,” Alice spoke warmly, “If two strangers can manage it, I think we’ve got a good chance now, don’t we?”

Charles turned back to her, taken aback by the continual confidence in her voice. It really was difficult to stick to his more realistic perspective on the situation when she spoke like that. Though, privately, he somewhat agreed with her. Or, at least, over these last two weeks he’d become accustomed to considering the possibility that this would end at least decently. Moreover, the man could only suppose that the point of her confidence was to coax him into believing this was possible. Not to baby him or patronize him, or manipulate him into suddenly changing his character. Rather, to gradually show him he could trust the situation. That he didn’t need to always state his opinions, but he could quietly hold onto some of his more optimistic thoughts.

Still, he really wasn’t ready to say all of that aloud just yet. So, “I suppose only time will tell.”

She didn’t frown at that cop-out of a comment. If anything, the determination in her eyes only further expanded to encompass her entire demeanour as a resolute smile made its way across her lips. Whatever Alice saw reflected in him right now, she looked quite fixed on making the best of the situation.

“I suppose it will.”

_._

“Look Elsie, sometimes, you just gotta give these things some thyme to sort it all out,” Beryl said as she added the seasoning into tonight’s dish. The woman in question continued to lean against the corner of the kitchen, her arms crossed a bit as she mulled it over. They’d decided for their dinner tonight to have it be at Beryl’s place, a home-cooked meal far more appealing than a night at a pub, what with the events of _ The Keys _ still hanging around their minds.

“Time?” The actor and comedian softly questioned, staring at something Beryl couldn’t see. Elsie had been bothered by the fact that she was still caught up in that night at _ The Keys_. Hence, her texting the redhead and seeing if she’d be down for scheduling their dinner for an earlier day. Just the thought of talking to someone else who wouldn’t judge her for these thoughts had been invigorating enough the whole day passed like a blur, making it easy to bring her act back up to its old standards.

Of course, now that she was here, Elsie had been unable to bring the subject up. She found herself suddenly taciturn about the topic, finding every possible to stall when it came to talking about it. Which was why she was content with distracting herself about talking about time instead of getting straight to the point.

“Mhmm, thyme.” Looking perfectly oblivious to what her newfound friend was interpreting, Beryl remained adamantly stuck on perfecting her seasoning for tonight’s dinner. Seeing as how Elsie hadn’t dropped by her flat before tonight a little more effort than normal had to be made for such a special occasion. “A pinch of thyme usually does the trick. That and garlic, if you’re feeling bold enough.”

“Right.” Still unsure of herself, Elsie continued to blankly look off into the distance — completely unaware of her surroundings as well as the fact that Beryl was actually referencing the culinary process throughout this entire conversation. 

“‘Course,” The redhead said knowingly, having understood what was running through the Scot’s head from the start. “If you prefer basil or rosemary, that’s on you.”

“Right.” Somehow finding an urge to keep rolling with the strange metaphor, suddenly realizing where her friend’s mind seemed to be, “But, what if you don’t even know if you’ll actually like basil? Or what if the rosemary doesn’t work if you decide to add it?”

Now, this, Beryl could talk about: “Well, you’ll never know until you try now will you? What do you think the great chefs did back in the day? Avoid experimentation?”

“I suppose not.” Elsie dryly commented, the unusual timid nature of her questions wearing off as she delved further into the concept. It did make sense when Beryl talked like that; it just didn’t seem nearly as applicable when she was a few feet away from Charles.

“You suppose correctly. We wouldn’t have gotten anywhere in the world without giving things a shot,” Lifting the dish up for her friend to investigate the possibilities, “And, whether or not it works out it always pays off.”

Breathing in the chicken sprinkled so divinely with enthralling seasonings the actor had personally never thought to try, “Does it now?”

Placing the plate back down, gesturing to the table for them to sit and start enjoying the meal, “Of course! You learned something instead of spending a long time wondering about it.”

“Right.” 

Beryl made to grab some more seasoning, using that as a chance to turn her back and roll her eyes at her friend’s hesitancy. When she’d been searching _ The Keys _in the name of saving the day, Elsie Hughes hadn’t seemed at all timid or tentative about taking action. But, of course, that was technically a different situation. At least, it was a different situation according to Alice. 

In the eyes of tonight’s chef, she didn’t really buy that argument. 

_._

“Do you really think a _ group _dinner is the way to go?” 

The grey-eyed woman inwardly sighed at this, knowing why he was being this rigid about the matter. She had also suspected this was going to be his reaction to the proposal. And still, she also knew his mannerisms fairly well after a week. Not only that, she had a decent sense of his personal reactions when it would come to social outings.

Thus, “I really do. In fact, Charles, to prove my point I’d like to run a scenario by you, if you don’t mind.”

He did mind, that was obvious. But, he was in fact willing to hear her out, much to her relief.

“Go on.” 

_ Thank you. _Collecting her thoughts together, Alice was thankful he was still dedicated to hearing her out after these last two weeks. Sometimes, in cases like these, it didn’t always stay that way. So, the fact that he was in fact listening and respecting her meant that she had to really think over her words. Luckily, she’d been thinking about this particular conversation for _ days_. After four meals and four conversations wherein she slowly warmed him up to the idea of going for this, it was time to start giving tangible situational advice. They’d spend quite a few hours discussing feelings as well as doing general analysis of the situation. But, as necessary as this glacial pace was for someone like Charles Carson, she also knew that his impatience would soon spike up and jump the gun much sooner than it should.

Hence, this little scenario.

“I’d like to close your eyes — yes, actually close your eyes right here and now — and imagine this scene,” Reaching for an analogy or metaphor to give him, suddenly blanking on everything she’d rehearsed, the woman settled for a concept that’d probably be the easiest to work with: theatre. More specifically, acting. She couldn’t really give him the thespian terms he’d know by heart. She’d just treat this as though it were a scene he was performing, “The setting is a restaurant. Not a pub but a restaurant. A nice one, with a great sense of attention to detail and a clear commitment to a high-quality of service and food.”

_Oh, yeah, very descriptive, Alice. _But, she couldn't afford to slip up in her concentration just because she wasn't the best at describing this sort of stuff. So, making sure her friend kept his eyes tightly shut and focused only on listening to her voice, the woman continued. 

“Now, imagine you’re entering this restaurant. The lighting is tastefully low, your reserved table waiting for you in the distance, and within seconds you can already see her. She has her back to you, but you’ve known that silhouette for years — you can recognize from any distance, having memorized its shape for ages. 

“The dress she wears is new, flattering, something you can’t help but stare at in as you get nearer and nearer. And as you approach her, you start to realize that you will be completely alone with her tonight. There will be no script to guide you, no cues from other people to take. Your lines are yours and only yours. And, you will be your own director. There will be no one to pause the scene or restart the monologue because this is it.” Pausing in her description, having observed the man gradually tense the more she continued, Alice felt content to let him finish the main message she had been trying to get across.

“That’s too much too soon.” She nodded at this, smiling sympathetically at his plight. But, at least he recognized this little fact.

“It’s not impossible for that all to happen. But, remember: baby steps will take you much farther with this sort of thing.” The woman cautioned her friend, not wanting to see this all spin out of control just because he was feeling impatient. Knowing Charles, he’d try for something incredibly out of his comfort zone, end up humiliating himself in some fashion, and never trusting this sort of situation ever again.

In other words, a path she’d like to avoid at all costs if possible.

“And a planned group dinner is really the way to go?” He still didn’t believe her on that front, understandably so. And smiling at the now opened eyes, the ones who boldly challenged her without saying a word, the woman coolly met his arch gaze head on.

“It’s a start.” Alice insisted, knowing that it felt like an off-putting situation and it probably felt really disheartening to hear that. But, he’d already confessed that they rarely interacted off the stage — and that most of those occasions had been cast parties where there were a lot of other people around for a buffer. Which meant that he’d be leaping into the unknown if he went ahead with a one-on-one dinner, something that wouldn’t be nearly as successful for him as gradually wading into it. “And if you’re going to get to that restaurant, you’ve got to start somewhere.”

**_._**

“So, why did you decide Charles needed to go on blind dates?”

Elsie sharply looked up from her plate, sensing as though there was suddenly an unwanted spotlight beaming directly on her. The tone had been too calculating for all of its casual warmth, something that set off alarm bells in the actor’s mind.

“I could ask the same of you,” She cautiously responded, resisting the urge to play with her food or look away from Beryl’s beady gaze. Though, in all seriousness, the chicken and pasta combination was delicious enough that she had been wanting to savour each bite. So, really, meticulously eating the meal was the perfect excuse to avoid discussing the situation.

“You could,” The woman conceded, “But, I did ask first.”

Glancing up, meeting the gaze of the immovable object known as Beryl Patmore, Elsie’s focus collided into a redheaded wall of stubbornness. Normally, she wouldn’t be this thrown off by obstinacy, but this topic was an exception to her normal rules. 

It also didn’t help that nine years was a long time.

Or that, each day she kept this secret to herself, her heart grew a little number to the possibilities.

“That you did.” Elsie acquiesced, bemusedly staring at her now mostly empty plate. But, she couldn’t just let it all go right then and there; she needed a minute to collect herself.

And, so, because the Scot had the look of someone who’d be speaking up soon enough, Beryl tried her best to reign in her patience. She wouldn't just wheedle the woman into confessing it all in one go. She would try to let it all come out naturally, even if waiting was one of the things she was most terrible at.

Of course, the emphasis in this instance was on “try”.

_._

“But, do we really have to invite _ Charlie _out as well?”

“Charles,” She only had so much patience after four other versions of this for the last two weeks, “If the situation were reversed and Elsie was inviting you to get drinks with some stranger she’s been seeing a lot of these last two weeks, how would you feel? It would have been enough to have it be the three of you, but if you want me to come along for support then Charlie has to be a part of the package. Or what kind of message do you think we'll be sending, hmm?”

“Point taken.”

Smiling a little thinly at this, relieved that they reached an agreement at last, “I can ask Beryl and Bert to tag along, if that'll make a difference.”

_._

“So, you’ve liked him for a long time, long enough to know that your feelings aren’t going away anytime soon.” It really was _ so _much easier to talk about all of this once Elsie had finally admitted the darn truth. Now Beryl didn’t have to pretend to be oblivious to stupidly obvious situation.

“That’s correct.”

_ Finally. _“But you’re not sure what his feelings are toward you.”

_ Obviously! Why else would I be here talking to you about—_“Also correct.” Sighing, recollecting herself, “I mean, why would he be interested in me if he’s determined to see Alice so often?”

_ For the love of_—__ “And why would _ you _ be interested in _ him _if you’ve been setting him up on blind dates for ages? Clearly, we can’t assume anything here.” At the sight of Elsie’s glare, one that was tinged with far too much regret and embarrassment for Beryl’s liking,“So, how about asking him now? A dinner or something, just the two of you?”

“Now?” The actor asked in disbelief, “After all these years?”

_ Yes, now! _“Even if you only go as friends it could count as something!”

“But, what about your friend, Alice Neal? Won’t she be upset if I ask him for dinner? Especially seeing as how they’re spending quite a nice amount of time together?” This was more dryly spoken than asked, the woman having long since concluded what her only option was. She’d already lost her chance to do anything like asking Charles out to dinner, obviously.

_ My goodness, why do I put up with this? _This was all getting too complicated for Beryl’s liking. On one hand, if she revealed Alice’s real feelings for Charles, thing might be cleared up. But, it might push those two to act sooner than whenever they’d been planning to. To add to that line of thought, honestly, from what little she’d seen of Charles, he struck her as the sort who’d run away if prodded too soon. Which this would definitely do to him, if she gave the truth away right here and now.

But, on the other hand, was she being a good friend to Elsie by_ lying _about everything going on?

“Maybe a dinner with friends then, something easy to start with?” It was the best suggestion she could make under the circumstances, the redhead more than a little put-out by the situation. In a perfect world, Elsie would be just going for it. But, because of Alice being in the picture, it was clear that the Scot was more determined to leave it be. Which made all of this much more of a mess than it needed to be. Honestly, it felt like they were all in a film or something.

“Well, that could work,” _ Thank God. _“But, I have to wonder,” Regally meeting Beryl’s gaze as though they were sparring with one another on the stage and not having a casual discussion, Elsie coolly directed all of her energy into interrogating the woman with a single question:

“What’s your part in all of this?”

_ Oh no__—__ _“Me?” 

“Yes, you.” Elsie persisted in her line of questioning, sharply observing the woman and putting all of her training to good use. “Beryl, why exactly are you so invested in what happens?”

“Can’t friends support one another?” She was treading on a slippery slope and Alice Neal owed her a damn good meal for this.

“They can. However, seeing as Alice is also your friend and has been for quite some time, I doubt that’s the real reason.” Concluding her own thoughts on the matter, “You don’t happen to have unrequited feelings for someone yourself, do you? This isn’t some sort of attempt to—”

This, Beryl snorted at before the woman finished her statement __—__ relieved that this was the assumption Elsie had made. Of all the conclusions the Scot could’ve jumped to, this was one of the easier ones to handle.

“Actually, Bert and I are well aware of our feelings for each other, thanks.” Smirking with a great deal of mirth at the actor who was currently gaping at the effortless admission, the redhead refused to change the subject or continue the conversation __—__ knowing that this honest little tidbit was enough of a distraction by itself.

“And how did _ that _ happen?” Elsie didn’t disappoint, unwittingly taking the bait. Inwardly grinning at the chance to insert some of her own advice without meddling with whatever Alice was attempting to do, Beryl thought through her next words very carefully. And when she was ready, the redhead was more than willing to take back the reins of their conversation.

“We found out because we trusted one another to be okay, whatever else. It’s funny, really: it was less ‘I’m going to deny my feelings about this’ and more ‘I didn’t realize this chance was available’.” Fondly recalling those months, the woman managed to avoid getting caught in the nostalgia that flooded her with the memories. But, like she said before: Alice Neal owed her a damn good meal for this.

“What do you mean?” Oh, Elsie really was precious — what with her widened blue eyes that conveyed such curiosity. Really, for someone whose living was made via performing, she was really quite an easy read off the stage.

Chuckling, “Our meeting was nothing like the stuff of films. We just bumped into each other in Tesco, started to chat, and realized we’d rather spend the day chatting away than anything else. So, of course, we kept on chatting over the weeks that came, occasionally going to farmers’ markets and the likes.” Blushing a bit at the unexpected attention, not normally getting a chance to talk about this sort of thing, she let the story-telling die down for a moment. After all she was a chef, not an actress!

“What happened next?” The woman asked, her personal wonderment unabashedly clear for all the world to see. 

“It led to us going a year before we realized the other was available in every sense of the word. He wasn’t in any sort of closet, he wasn’t engaged, nothing at all like that. And, of course, the same for me.” Beaming at the thought, “So, when we realized that, we figured there was no need to waste any time getting our act together, if you’ll pardon the expression.”

Elsie lets out a low and dry laugh at this, faintly amused by the theatre pun and more than willing to tease the situation, “So, it took you a whole year to ‘get your act together’?”

_Better than the twelve years or so it’s been taking you! _However, knowing that snapping out a retort wasn’t going to help in this case, she reigns in her personal frustration and focuses on maintaining an even, authentic tone, “Yes. And, Elsie, I’ve got to admit: it’s worth the risk.”

The air stumbles a bit at this, not anticipating that sort of improvisation. It becomes stiff with denial, much like the woman before her.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Being unusually hesitant, a sure sign that she's avoiding the subject for once, the Scot clumsily glances toward the ground in an effort to avoid Beryl’s piercing gaze. Yeah, well, whether one sees the beady stare of Beryl Patmore or not, it can definitely still be felt.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” Letting that hang in the air for a solid few seconds, reveling in the suspense for once, “But, I also know that what I say and what you’re gonna do will be two very different things.”

Elsie gives a weary laugh at this, a mixture of a worn-down chuckle and a defeated scoff, “And what do you suggest I do instead?”

“Oh no, Elsie Hughes, you’re not getting away with that sort of answer,” Beryl shakes her head firmly at this, not in the mood to humour the woman and give her more reasons to doubt herself, “You already know the answer I’m going to give; it’s on you whether you want to take it.”

Staring in further incredulity, dryly teasing the situation in an effort to avoid the truth: “You mean to tell me that a group dinner really is the way to go?”

“Not funny.” And, Beryl’s quite right: not only is the joke not all that funny, Elsie does already know the answer to her question. Sighing into her seat, shaking her head a bit at the very idea presented before her, the actor keeps her gaze on her now finished plate.

“You know as well as I that it’ll never work.”

“Do we?” Worried lips tilt upward as blue irises glimpse a determined gaze. One that is insisted the Scot just trust the situation for once in her life. “Do we really know 'it'll never work'?”

Wryly, unable to properly fight the optimism before her, “Aren’t you supposed to be on Alice’s side when it comes to this sort of thing?”

Indifferently, having fully committed herself to wrangling some sort of meal out of one Alice Neal, “Do sides really exist when it comes to love?” 

**  
** **_._**

It was with a sense of relief that Alice had finally crossed the threshold of her little flat, having made it home at last. It had been a nice night, but it was even nicer now that she could call it a day.

Though, of course, the day wasn’t quite over when there were still unread text messages left for her to look over. Tonight, there looked to be only four unread messages waiting for her when she’d finally gotten settled in her flat. Seeing as how they were from two very different individuals, she figured she’d at least look at the ones from her best friend first.

** _YOU OWE ME. BIG TIME -- BP_ **

** _LIKE, FANCY MEAL ON THE HOUSE BIG TIME -- BP_ **

** _AND YOU REALLY NEED TO STOP SEEING HIM IF YOU WANT THIS TO WORK -- BP_ **

Well, there was certainly a story in those texts! And though she was curious to find out just what that meant, Alice also knew that she’d be staying up far past her bedtime if she texted back to find out. Which meant that it was time to see what her other texter had to say for himself.

** _Thank you for dinner this evening. While I confess I’ll need some time to implement your suggestion, I think I can manage something by the end of the week, if not sooner. -- CC_ **

Sighing a little to herself — it was astonishing how willing Charles could be about this and how simultaneously terrified he was of the possibilities — Alice tiredly smiled as she began to tap out a response.

** _While you don’t need to text them tonight, I definitely wouldn’t hold off for too long -- AN_ **

**_._**

Dinner out with friends is almost always a nice affair. Dinner spent in Beryl Patmore’s house as she grills you on your life and gives you a reality check? Not nearly as fun as it was enlightening.

After finishing _ those _ conversations with the redhead, the ones that have sent her thoughts swirling about in all directions even now, Elsie knows she needs some time to calm her mind down before sleep can be considered. She knows her newfound friend is right when it comes to knowing what the right answer probably— what the right answer_ undoubtedly i_s. 

She just needs a night or two to muster up her courage before she can follow through on her friend’s advice.

Because, as Beryl had blithely pointed out, even though Charles has been with Alice a lot these days, he’s not said anything about their officially being together. As of right now, nothing's set in stone. And, knowing Charles, nothing would be set in stone for quite some time. So, even if it's only just a few drinks as friends before he inevitably informs everyone that he’ll be leaving this life of theirs, she can at least walk away knowing she’s done something.

Sinking onto her mattress, refusing to stare up at the ceiling in dismay — a vexed glare seemed much more appropriate for the situation — Elsie also refuses to contemplate anything in general. She's absolutely determined to enjoy her duvet and her ever-so-soft pillow and completely ignore the fact that someone has literally just texted her. Because no one ever texts her past 9 o’clock on a weekday. _ And_, seeing as how she’s already repeatedly reassured Beryl she has indeed made it home safe and sound, there could only really be one other person—

“No,” The Scot mutters to herself, turning her back even further away from the phone, “Why would he be texting me now?”

Just because she's indubitably resolved to at least make some sort of attempt to get drinks soon did not mean that Charles Carson is going to beat her to the punch and ask her himself. Nor does it meant that he's going to suddenly confess his feelings that he's also been denying these last few years. 

Because, yeah, right, sure that's reality: her best mate is also just as in love with her as she is with him. Erm, did she forget to step off the stage or something? If that was reality, then— then— well, she’d think of some witty way to finish that thought off the moment she stopped wondering who it was that has just texted her.

“Well, we know one thing.” The woman muttered to herself, now directing her glare over her shoulder and in the direction of her phone. But, not in the mood to officially finish her statement, she decided to roll over and face whatever was waiting for her:

_ **Would you be interested in getting a dinner later this week? -- CC** _

An astonished smile blossoms across her lips, an unbidden optimism rising out of her thoughts.

_ **A dinner with me and Charlie and a few others, that is -- CC** _

_Oh. _

Shutting her eyes, ignoring the draining sensation of disappointment as a third text comes through her messages, Elsie waits until she's got a good handle on her frustration before looking. It's not Charles' fault he doesn't feel the same way; she can't be upset with him over something she's never told him. And, as much as she'd like to be upset with him for only seeing her as a friend, that's not fair to either of them.

** _Hey -- JB_ **

Shock is too kind a sentiment for what she felt right now. But with another text appearing in seconds, shock is chucked aside for something stronger. Something stronger and something more indiscernible than anything she’s felt in years.

** _I’ll be passing through this week and I would really, really love to see you again -- JB_ **

** _Just us, that is. -- JB_ **

_My, my._

Maybe twelve years ago, Elsie would have profusely blushed at the thought of Joe Burns contacting her out of the blue. She might’ve bit her lips in anticipation of what this could all possibly meant, might’ve fought a lot of butterflies in an effort to give a response. As it stood in this moment, she really didn’t know how she felt at the sight of those texts. All she knew was that her stomach was churning a bit in either apprehension or excitement or both. That all thoughts of the group dinner had been set aside in favour of the fact that Charles had never met Joe, that neither knew of the other’s existence because they’d never been in her life at the same time. 

Still, whatever else, Joe’s company was nice. It was familiar, it was easy-going. She knew him and his usual conversations well enough to not have to really think through her responses, whatever else. And, a drink away from Charles and Charlie, as well as a chance to avoid any mentioning of the ever enchanting Alice Neal, would be greatly appreciated. It’d give her a chance to really step away from all of that and give Beryl’s advice more thought. And, if it just so happened to conflict with this group dinner—

_Elsie Hughes, you are **not **a coward._

Mentally stepping away from the idea of escaping that social outing, she puts the phone aside and focuses on breathing techniques once again. She won’t respond to either of them just yet. If Joe is interested in more than just drinks, she really doesn’t want to give the wrong impression. And she really doesn't know how she feels about Charles' proposal, seeing as how it sounds more disappointing than anything. Group drinks, even if it is Charles who suggested it, he only suggested it right after he met Alice. Really, it just feels like it's his way of saying "I'm going to be heading down a different path now. Which means I'll be seeing you all sometime after never. Bye!"

As a whole, right now she feels confusion more than anything. So, when breathing techniques do nothing for her nerves, she decides to try another tactic: treating this all like a scene to be observed. Running through the possible motivations of the characters involved and sketching out a tangible concept of the atmosphere on hand.

On one hand, she and Joe had parted on good terms all those years ago. Which means that he's not very likely to be acting out in a malicious manner after all this time although it is possible. On the other hand, even if he wants to try being a couple again, she now knows that her love for Joe is nothing like her love for Charles. But, going back to the first hand, it looks Charles will be leaving them all any second now, having become absolutely smitten with Alice. _And, _it's only a group dinner that's been suggested. Only _she_ had thought there could have been something more. It's not as though he was being given the same suggestions she was, it had to only be because of some friendship obligation he felt. Probably his way of saying thanks for unintentionally setting him up with Alice.

And, really, there's nothing in his texts that implies anything other a platonic inquiry; he's been perfectly amiable and innocent in his suggestion. And also, going back once more to the second hand: is Joe even interested in anything more than just a drink? Couldn't his upcoming visit be entirely innocent? Just like with Charles, couldn't she be misinterpreting the entire situation? And, then going back to the original hand, Beryl's blunt advice is now coming to the forefront of her mind — the words loudly clanging together and drowning out any other thoughts, distinctly demanding she continue to hope for the best. But, still—

  
_ Elsie Hughes, _ the woman nearly growls to herself as blatant curiosity continues to bounce back and forth throughout her mind, _ Shut up and go to bed and figure it all out in the morning. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note: **   
Once again, hope you’ve enjoyed that! This next update will probably take 2 days or so. And, for those who are curious as to how long the story will be as a whole, we’re definitely starting to get into the heart of it now. There’ll be at least a few more chapters, but this will certainly be shorter than “Dashing” or “ISNSIV”. Annndddd, even though there's at least one other plot twist on the way, I promise this will come to a resolution. 


	4. That Agitated Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“How can you sit there, calmly eating muffins when we are in this horrible trouble, I can’t make out. You seem to me to be perfectly heartless.”_  
_“Well, I can’t eat muffins in an agitated manner. The butter would probably get on my cuffs. One should always eat muffins quite calmly. It is the only way to eat them.” -_ Oscar Wilde, _The Importance of Earnest_  

> 
> **Author’s Note: **  
My apologies for the delay. Originally, this chapter was going to go down a very different path -- so I had to take a metaphorical minute to readjust everything. 
> 
> **Disclaimer: **  
There is some language in this, just as a heads up.
> 
> Also, as a note, realistically they’d probably all have to have at least one other job in addition to acting (because c’est la vie). But, this is one of the rarer instances in which I’m content to step away from realism. Just wanted to say something in case there were any performers in the crowd who were like “Um, they’ve got to be really good if this is their only form of living. And even then they probably need another job.”
> 
> **Word Count: **5,129

Charlie Grigg, as much as he liked to pretend otherwise, actually did care about his friends a great deal. He did very much enjoy supporting them — especially seeing as how these two individuals had stopped him from walking down certain paths early on, paths he wouldn’t have been able to recover from. Because of their support, in all the many ways its shown up over the years, he wanted to give them his own support however he could.

So, what did that support translate into today?

Getting to rehearsal incredibly early so as to catch every second of the “We had a great time together but we’re going to try our best to suppress it because we think that’s professionalism” show that would be his friends’ respective arrivals. 

Or, at least, that had been his goal about forty minutes ago. His current goal was to figure out what the hell happened last night. 

Charlie had been a twitching mess from the start — fidgeting with props, playing with his sleeves, and honestly fumbling around with the air itself. Elsie hadn’t arrived yet and the twitchy fumbling playing-around fidgeting was getting worse the longer the woman wasn’t here.

After another few minutes of this, Grigg discovered he really couldn’t take the nervous energy. Striding across the stage and over to his friend — he’d left the man alone when subtler approaches had been rejected twenty minutes ago — he settled for just getting straight to the point.

“What happened last night after you went out, Charlie?” The man’s bleary eyes shot up at this, having been boring a hole into the floor while he paced in anticipation of Elsie’s arrival. “Because something happened and we’re gonna get nowhere today if you don’t tell me what’s up.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Scowling at this unnecessary obstinacy, obstinacy he’d been absorbing for a decent amount of years, Charlie decided to throw some of it back. After all that these two idiots of his did, if this was how it was going to be when they had problems he wouldn’t interfere. But if either of them thought they could just ignore him or avoid his questions, he wouldn’t stand for that.

“Look, something went wrong last night after you went out—”

“How do you know about that?” Rolling his eyes at his friend, Charlie continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted:

“— but you should remember that Els likes you enough that, whatever you mistake you made, it’s not the end of the world. God knows one night isn’t gonna cancel out nine years.”

_ “What?” _ Now his friend looked more confused than anything, “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean ‘what am I talking about’?” He demanded, not liking the sound of this. Charlie was defensive, true, but he also looked much too confused for his friend's liking. But, whatever was going on, it looked like questions were still going to be dodged left and right:

_Well— _“I asked first!”

_ Oh, you’re not getting away with that today! _ “If we’re going by who asked first, _ I _was the one who asked first!”

_ Seriously? This is the level of _ ** _maturity_ ** _ you’re stooping to? _“No, you weren’t!”

_ Charlie, I ought to_— _ _“Yes, I was!”

_ Why aren’t you giving up on this? And what did you mean by that comment from before?! _“No, you weren’t!”

_ If you could shut up and tell me what I just messed up, this would all be much easier! _ “ _ Yes _, I was!”

_ Is this really how we’re starting the day? _

“If this is a new act,” A worn-down lilt dryly began to interject, shutting them both up immediately. “I’d consider changing it up: I saw you both do something similar at least three years ago.”

Both men whipped back around in the direction of the main entrance, observing with varying degrees of shock the fact that the third member of their trio had finally arrived. She was quite exhausted and withdrawn as a whole, that much was clear as day. But Elsie Hughes had indeed arrived to their little rehearsal.

“Just a new act we were considering. Course, we haven’t worked out the details.” Grigg easily lied, knowing that his friend was freaking out to the point where the man had gone completely silent. 

“Well, I didn’t catch what cued the argument, but I’m sure it was funny.” Busying herself by looking into her purse for something, Elsie looked oblivious to the relief now flooding the down-stage area. 

“Right. We gonna rehearse or what?” Charlie still didn’t know what had happened in the last twelve hours or what enormous mistake he made just now. All he did know is that they needed to get going and he needed something stronger than tea if this was going to be the rest of the day. 

“Actually, I_— _” Grigg turned in confusion at his now-speaking friend, not knowing the man to ever protest rehearsing. He’d already known that whatever was going on was serious, but he didn’t think it was _ that _serious. “I would like_—_”

_ What are you doing, Charlie? _

“Actually, I need a minute, please start without me.” Elsie had been searching for her phone, the _ crescendoing _ringtone signifying an incoming call. “My apologies; I’ll try to make this quick.” She muttered, eyes darkening at the sight of the caller’s ID even as she dutifully stepped back outside to take it.

_._

She had been late, having wound up sleeping through all three alarms. That alone was a rarity, but she didn’t have a minute to question it _—_ she had to get herself ready and out of the flat in five minutes.

That is why she’d originally missed the texts.

It was only once she was situated in her cubicle, having been lectured for a good ten minutes about the impacts of tardiness, that Alice had been able to breathe and check who’d been blowing up her phone on the car ride over here.

** _So, there may be a problem. - CC_ **

“Oh, dear.”

** _I texted Elsie last night about getting a group dinner and she never responded. Which was fine except I know she’ll have been up for several hours now and she still. hasn’t. responded. - CC_ **

“Oh, no.”

** _What should I do? Because I don’t know if I should mention it at all and she’s still not here yet and she’s more than thirty minutes late. Which she never is. And I also don’t know if that means she’s not okay or if she’s avoiding me now that I’ve asked or what. - CC_ **

“Oh_— _” That would’ve been enough of a fiasco to deal with by itself, except there was more.

** _I think Grigg knows something. He asked me how my night went and he never does that. He hasn’t asked me how my night’s been in seven years. And Elsie still isn’t here, and I really don’t know what to do. - CC_ **

All of that still would’ve been somewhat manageable to handle. Except for the fact that things hadn’t stopped going wrong. And very, very cryptic.

** _Please call when you can. - CC_ **

** _It just got worse. - CC_ **

_._

“Joe, I appreciate your calling to check-in on me, but we were in the middle of a rehearsal when you called.” She really hadn’t the patience for this conversation. She was still trying to figure out what was going on with Charlie and Charles. She didn’t think that was just another act of theirs, not for one second. But, the longer this conversation with Joe went on, the more time her two friends had to sweep whatever was going on under the rug. Which, judging from the fact that there was an atmosphere building on the stage, would only make things worse. If there was one thing she couldn’t stand for, it was an atmo_— _

_ “And I’m sorry I interrupted, but you never got back to me and I had to know: are we getting dinner this Friday?” _

The woman glared at the pavement, irately thinking his words over. _ Oh, now it’s ‘are we' going to do this? Not if I’d even like to or am available in the first place? _She had half a mind to tell him no due to that tone of voice alone, never caring to be told by others what she was supposed to do. But before she could he was already speaking in an effort to redeem himself. 

_ “Sorry. I didn’t mean to try to boss you around. I know that doesn’t work, and I wouldn’t want to suggest otherwise.” _

“Right you are.” She coolly responded, still very much confused by everything that was going on. Something was up with her friends, something was up with Joe, and she wasn’t getting any answers anytime soon. That was partially due to her, though somewhat not her fault: she hadn't had a chance to officially respond to anyone, having had a restless night that resulted in sleeping past her morning alarms.

_ “And, I can drop by your theatre if that’ll help. We don’t have to get dinner, I_—_” _ She heard something intimate inside that tone, something that was desperately personal and raw, something that she connected to immediately. _ “I just really need to see you again.” _

“My, my.” She could hear him sigh at this, the man losing patience the longer she delayed in responding. It wasn’t that she was intentionally withholding an answer; it was only that she was still waking up and trying to process everything of the last ten minutes. And, if there was something she liked less than atmosphere, it was giving someone an answer she hadn't had a chance to think through.

_ “Well?” _

_._

_ “Tell me everything, Charles.” _

He’d ducked out one of the back exits of the theatre, trying his best to make sure no one would be able to overhear this bit. Or, at least, he couldn't have Elsie and Charlie overhear this. He still had no idea what Charlie had meant when the man had made _ that _comment a few minutes ago, and he honestly didn’t know what to believe anymore _—_ needing to get away from all of that for at least a few minutes.

“Right.” Trying to collect his thoughts, needing a second before he could just dive into it. “Well, Charlie just tried to find out more about our dinner. But, because Elsie hadn’t been here yet, I was too nervous to think about a response. _ But then _he said something I can’t believe. And before I could find out more about what he said, we started to have a row. And, then, of course, that was when Elsie arrived. But before_—_”

_ “Charles!” _ The man was shaken out of his thoughts before he could continue, _ “I’ve only got five minutes, so I’m going to have to ask you to summarize. What did Charlie say?” _

Mustering as much strength as he possibly could, not wanting to infuse this next statement with hope, “That I should remember Elsie likes me enough whatever I’ve done wrong it’ll be all right. And that one night isn’t going to ‘cancel out’ nine years.”

Alice had taken far too long a minute to issue a much-too-calm, _ “I see. What happened next?” _

Inhaling patience, still having no clues as to what to do next, “We were starting to have a row about what he meant, which is when Elsie walked in. But, before anything else happened, she had to step out to take a call.”

_ “Okay.” _

Charles waited a beat, feeling as though his entire body was on the edge of a seat the longer this went on. He did recognize that rushing Alice would probably only result in wasting precious time. Still, when she couldn’t say anything else, he was beginning to lose that supposed control of his.

“Right. What exactly do we do now?”

_ “Charles,” _ Honesty filtered through the reception loud and clear, _ “That is an excellent question. I think we’re going to have to call Beryl.” _

_._

Charlie Grigg didn’t normally like to consider himself an idiot, but he was beginning to rethink that assessment. Because, judging from the look Charlie had been unable to hide, he’d made an assumption somewhere in that conversation.

One that was definitely going to come back to bite him, that he had no doubt.

_._

“Joe, I,” Turning to readjust her grip on her phone and this strange reality, Elsie unwittingly collided into some stranger who’d been hurrying down the pavement. The phone fell out of her hands, clattering to the ground as the older woman profusely began to apologize for the accident.

“It’s quite all right,” Elsie tried to reassure the stranger, truly not feeling anything other than a sense of relief. Said relief was soon followed by an irritation: she wasn’t a child who couldn’t handle these sorts of situations, and she didn’t care for the fact that she was acting as such. “My mobile’s not broken, no one’s bleeding, truly, everything’s fine, ma’am, really.”

“I’ll believe that statement when I see proof,” The stranger dryly replied, crouching on the pavement to pick up the phone in question before the actor could think to grab it, “I am terribly sorry about that _—_ I’m known for being passionate about my work, but I’ve never knocked someone over in the process.”

“Oh, really?” The woman’s walking companion archly put forth the question, effortlessly interjecting herself, “You surprise me, Isobel.”

“Isn’t that a relief?” Isobel sarcastically asked, handing Elsie back her phone _—_ the tinny sounds of a spluttering Joe Burns carrying on as the phone was given back. The Scot took back the device with a sense of dread, focusing on the women before her. She felt as though she were watching a subtle battle waged right in front of her eyes. One she didn’t really have time to appreciate, but one that was ensuing, nevertheless.

Yet, it looked like the battle between these two women would be put on hold for a somewhat more important conversation.

“Well, aren’t you going to answer him?” The oldest woman of the unorthodox trio acerbically inquired, eyeing the mobile with more than a hint of derision. The actor belatedly took that as her cue to properly address Joe again, having almost forgotten about that conversation.

_ “Look, Elsie, if you’re just gonna ignore me_—_” _

“My apologies, Joe, there was an accident.”

_ “‘Accident’?” _

“Everything’s fine,” She really didn’t require more hysteria at the moment, of that she was certain. “And I’m sure I’ll be able to meet sometime on Friday.”

_ “All right. Dinner, then?” _

“Did I not mention that I’ll have to check my schedule?” Very much ignoring the fact that the two older women were still observing the phone call instead of making their way to wherever they were going next, “Look, I have to get back to work now. We’ll have to figure this out later.”

_ “Fine.” _He didn’t seem to get the hint that the conversation was officially over, content to stay on for a few extra seconds. Looked like it would be up to her to hang up the call herself.

“_ That _ is how you handle correspondences? I know this is a modern era, but I did not realize _ that _ is how the younger generations feel deign to respond these days.”

How could she have possibly forgotten about those two women for those few seconds? Especially with the older one coolly staring her down the entire time. That woman’s aloof opinions were firmly sketched into her demeanour for all the world to see, making it quite obvious how she judged Elsie’s treatment of the situations.

_ Hang on a minute_—_ ‘younger generations’? _

“Oh, Violet, I’m sure that was a special occasion.” 

_ "Special occasion"? _

“Really now? What does that make the typical one then, hmm?”

_._

“What do you mean you can’t just tell her you like her?”

Turned out, Beryl was too busy at work to be of any assistance this time _—_ that call went straight to voice-mail on her end. However, it also turned out that there were Americans wandering through the town.

Americans who were more than happy to interject themselves in the conversation.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Charles hadn’t hung up the call with Alice when the older woman had approached him, but his mental defenses had leapt into action at the blatant intrusion.

“Listen,” The copper-haired woman bluntly began to state, “I heard enough of your conversation to know what’s going on _—_ you don’t have to act like my son-in-law.”

_ “Charles,” _ He inched the phone closer to his ear, having caught the sound of his name. _ “It never hurts to listen to advice. But I’m afraid I’ve got to go now: my five minutes are up.” _

“But,” She’d hung up before he could finish the statement, ditching him much like Elsie and Charlie had at _ The Keys _. 

The irony was not lost on him.

_ When this falls apart, I’ll be blaming you, Alice Neal. _ Turning to the brash American with great disinterest, “Well then, what would _ you _ suggest I do?”

The woman merely smirked in response.

_._

“And why exactly does your situation have to be this complicated? Surely such histrionics is meant for the stage, not reality? And you may be an actress, my dear, but even you must be able to recognize that fact?”

_ Don’t you have a hospital to be volunteering at? _

“Violet, I’m sure there’s more to this than what we’ve been told.” Although Isobel had been perfectly polite and understanding, she also hadn’t carted off her friend the moment it was clear no phones or persons had been injured in the collision. Therefore, Elsie couldn’t help but feel a sense of frustration toward the woman. Furthermore, even though Violet had been the one to officially start this little interrogation, it was Isobel who said the pair could be late to the hospital they were volunteering at. Which gave Violet even more reason to persist in her interrogation. That, in turn, gave the Scot even more reason to be miffed with the pair.

“Oh, I’m sure it _ seems _that way.” Violet haughtily persisted, “But somehow I doubt it.”

At this remark, Elsie used all her training to keep her face perfectly neutral, detachedly recognizing that her lilt was beginning to slip into more of a brogue the more they spoke. “Well, ma’am, I’m not sure I can agree with that.”

“Of course you’d say that,” The older woman indifferently responded, “It is _ your _situation.”

“Come now,” Isobel protested on Elsie’s behalf, even though the actor didn’t really need it. “I’m sure there’s truth to what she is saying. Every situation has its own complications, you know that as well as I do.”

Violet merely gave a certain look in response, the one wherein judgement fully radiated from every inch of her stare. The one that had Elsie’s hands curling into fists as she tried her best to ignore the vexation she now felt.

“Yes, well, I’m sure that’s what you both would like to believe.”

“Now, what do you mean by that?” Isobel demanded, ire creeping into her tone even as her companion continued to carry on back toward the direction of the hospital.

“Precisely that.” It looked like Violet Crawley was ready to be done with the conversation, having decided it was no longer in her interest to continue pursuing the subject. However, what was even more apparent was the fact that the woman had snootily opened a can of worms by starting this interrogation in the first place. And that this can of worms was going to persist in existing in its full glory, regardless of who was interested.

“Well, I’m not sure _ I _ know exactly what you mean, ma’am.” 

The actor really should’ve left it alone once the pair had started to finally take their leave. Truly, she usually would’ve been relieved to be able to return to normalcy, would’ve been inwardly rejoicing at the sight of the two walking away. However, the older woman’s tone had been biting these last few minutes, enough to challenge Elsie’s patience a great deal. And, seeing as how the Scot was running on fumes _— _ as well as soaking up the adrenaline rush that came with finally answering Joe Burns and somewhat settling that mess _— _ she felt a sense of vindication now seeping out of her. A sensation that was resolutely determined to prove her own case, regardless of the cost.

“Oh,” Isobel was now rapidly attempting to shift conversational tracks, knowing that they were all treading on thin ice and something was going to crack any minute now, “I’m sure I can explain what Violet means.”

“I am perfectly capable of explaining myself, Isobel.”

Regally pivoting around to meet the challenger of the hour, Violet Crawley arched an eyebrow in the direction of Elsie Hughes. The Scot merely stood her ground, refusing to cross her arms in defense or back down at the sight.

Little did the actor know, she’d just made quite the mistake.

_._

Charlie Grigg had wanted to check on both of his friends the minute they’d dipped out, honest. Not only because they all did need to rehearse at some point, but also because his two idiots were probably going to be absent for a pretty long time. Longer than they should be and definitely longer than he’d’ve liked. Which meant that things would probably be concluded that shouldn’t be concluded in the first place and all of this would turn into an even larger mess than it already was.

Still, of course, it was only the moment he tried to investigate the situation himself _—_ having decided that ten minutes or so was more than enough time to wait _—_ that he discovered quite a shock. Upon cracking open the back-exit a few centimeters, having enough space to eavesdrop and get an idea of the situation without giving himself away: “If you mean to tell me that you’ve been keeping this a secret for _ nine years _then I really gotta hand it to you, buddy: glaciers move faster than you.”

And then, after bolting away to the other side of the theatre, gently pressing up against the main entrance door just enough to catch hints of this other outside world: “My dear, vocational choices aside, you initially struck me as a competent individual who merely had the misfortune of encountering Isobel on the war path. However, now that I’ve heard this _ fascinating _ tale of yours...”

So, now it looked like his best option was to wait out whatever the hell was going on outside.

That, or make some popcorn and furtively enjoy what sounded like one hell of a show.

_._

“You gonna take that? It’s been ringing for like a minute now.” 

It seemed as though someone was trying to call Charles, a fact he’d been unaware of as he’d desperately tried to process this American’s advice. The woman had applauded Alice’s efforts before telling him that he’d get nowhere at this rate. That, a group dinner was nice and all but _—_ judging from the way he’d said it to Elsie and how she never responded _—_ she probably took it the wrong way. That, if the Scot wasn’t previously convinced he had no interest whatsoever, he’d unintentionally confirmed it himself with the idea.

Finally realizing that he needed to answer the call, only now beginning to question why he'd open up with yet another stranger about this part of his life,_ “Charles, why did Alice call me during work? What’s going on?” _

“If you’ll excuse me,” Charles said to the American, unsurprised by the fact that she’d only nodded instead of walking away and giving him space. Resigning himself to the fact that the brash woman would be eavesdropping on this conversation as well, “Beryl, everything’s fine. Well, it’s not really, but it’s not an emergency.”

_ “And what does _ ** _that _ ** _ mean?” _

“It means_—_ wait a minute, how did you get this number?” 

_ “It was a group phone call and Alice isn’t picking up. Had to assume this was your number. Now what’s this supposed ‘not an emergency’?” _

“Erm,” These last fifteen minutes were disorienting by themselves. Beryl’s dogged determination to get to the point was not helping. And, unfortunately, the American woman was close enough to insert herself into this conversation a _ second _time.

“Your friend here is being stupid about his feelings, but you probably already knew that. He could just the girl he likes the truth, but he’s choosing to avoid it and hurt himself in the process.”

Much to his chagrin, Charles could swear he heard a tinny snort at the sound of this.

“Beryl! Don’t tell me you actually agree with this woman!” They hadn’t had many conversations about the subject just the two of them, but the actor had expected his acquaintance to be on his side when it came to this. Especially with such an obnoxious person inserting themselves into a conversation they really didn’t know anything about.

_ “Well, _— _ wait,” _ Shouting ensued over the phone, shouting that had him flinching at the sound, _ “I think Alfred’s burning-- ALFRED, WHAT MADE YOU THINK THAT’S HOW YOU TREAT APPLE CRUMBLE?” _

“Beryl,” He sharply began but she was already cutting him off.

_ “Sorry, Charles_— _ WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT JUST STANDING THERE, IVY? OH, WHERE’S DAISY WHEN YOU NEED HER?” _

Feeling as though it wouldn’t insult the redhead if he hung up right now, Charles proceeded to do so _— _ feeling a sense of gratuity he didn't actually have to work with the woman. He was sure they’d work well together, he just couldn’t imagine ever being in the same kitchen as the chef.

“Well, it looks like you’ve been holding me up too long,” ** _I’ve_ ** _ been holding _ ** _you_ ** _ up? _“So, I’m just gonna have to leave you to your own devices.”

And patting him on the arm as though he were fifty years younger than her instead of thirty, Martha Levinson made to take her leave. But, before she could step away, the American had one more piece of advice to offer:

“Just remember, Charles.” Her smirk widened once more at his surprise _—_ he obviously hadn’t anticipated her hearing being good enough to catch his name. “You can choose to ignore the world if you want to keep hurting yourself. But, you’ll find it’s easier on both you _ and _ the world if you adapt.”

_._

“Now, my dear, you may have once found your situation sufficient enough to carry on in this manner,” Elsie stood in shock at the disconcerting mixture of sympathy and apathy that Violet Crawley had been conveying these last few minutes or so. “However, it is evident by your elaboration alone that this is no longer the case.”

“If you’re implying I ought to throw my career away on a whim,” Elsie was normally all for respecting others and hearing people out. However, being boxed up for the last twenty-four hours and being told what to do was truly driving her up a wall. Hence, her coldly bantering with Violet instead of letting the woman state her entire piece.

“Hardly. What I am implying is that you find out the unequivocal truth before making any further decisions.” Violet held her bearing with an almost aristocratic manner, refusing to back down in any capacity. “To do otherwise would be a mistake.”

Elsie had stilled at this, starting to genuinely take in the words and looking as though something had begun to click within her. Yet, she wasn't fully convinced and Violet wasn't finished speaking.

“Now, if you will excuse us. To be fashionably late is one thing. To arrive at this hour is quite another.” Without another word, the eldest of the group turned on her heel and carried on. Isobel couldn’t immediately follow suit, needing to pause a moment and offer some of her counsel. She wouldn’t try to interfere quite like Violet, but she was interested in giving the actor something to work with. 

“For once, I do believe we’re in agreement.” And, fully directing her gaze toward Elsie’s direction, “I really do wish you the best of luck with this; I have absolute confidence it’ll all work out!”

Smiling in response, “Thank you for that.”

Isobel nodded once more, keeping a cordial beam on her countenance as she turned to join her friend. She could only hope it really did all work out much like she wished.

Of course, that would be entirely up to actor before her. She could only give encouragement and advice.

_._

Having been able to snatch up a fair amount of both conversations, an impressive feat if he was being honest, Charlie Grigg had figured out the best thing to do: wait for his mates to return when it was time. 

When they did eventually return, looking rather shaken but just as determined, he knew this was finally going to resolve itself. They’d probably need some prodding, they might need to be shoved into a closet or something, but resolution would eventually be coming about.

“Right.” He began, knowing that _— _ for all the determination they probably carry _— _these two idiots of his would probably still want to wait till after rehearsal to do anything. Which was fine by him, so long as they weren’t going to get so distracted by this that they couldn’t do their job. "Shall we get started, then?"

“Actually, Charlie,” “Now that you mention it,”

Two resolved voices spoke out at the same time, she coming toward the stage while he started to approach her from the back-exit. Grigg immediately backed off from trying to take control of the rehearsal, curious as to what was going to happen next. 

They hadn't really jolted at the sound of each other simultaneously speaking. In fact, although he carried trepidation in his gait and she held worries in her lips, they looked even more resolved to sort this out now that they were both in the same room.

Unintentionally starting to speak at the same time once again, the pair was not fully unified but certainly determine to meet in the middle of this little scene of theirs:

“I’m afraid we’ll have to delay rehearsal for another few minutes, Charlie,” “There’s something I need to discuss with Charles.”

“Right.” The actor muttered to himself, not needing to know exactly why his friends had jumped from being their normally idiotic selves to something definitely a bit smarter. Grigg could only proceed to slowly back away as they continued to approach one another, “I’ll leave you to it then. Be back in a bit.” 

They were oblivious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author’s Note: **   
As you can probably surmise, this story is nearing a close! Much sooner than I originally anticipated: my muse had demanded a change in pace. And, what would be the point of advocating adaptation in a story if I don’t do so myself?
> 
> Now, there’s going to be one more chapter (possibly followed by an epilogue), which should take the normal 2-3 days. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed that and have a lovely day!


	5. That Curious Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Theatres are curious places, magician's trick-boxes where the golden memories of dramatic triumphs linger like nostalgic ghosts, and where the unexplainable, the fantastic, the tragic, the comic and the absurd are routine occurrences on and off the stage. Murders, mayhem, political intrigue, lucrative business, secret assignations, and of course, dinner.” _\-- E.A. Bucchianeri
> 
> **Author’s Note: **  
Thank you so very much for your patience. Suffice to say, this week was rather rough. 
> 
> Also! There are a tooooonnnnnnnnnn of references to the show (and previous chapters) embedded in this one. I desperately tried to refrain from slipping in references to the show within this story, but I broke on this one because it was just too perfect. 
> 
> In any case, there was also a particular guest review that sparked inspiration for this chapter! I do hope you’re reading tonight’s installment and enjoy the hinted result of said inspiration (it’ll be near the end).
> 
> **Word Count: **  
6,861

In spite of everything, of all the confidence being flung in their direction these last few days alongside two weeks of well-meaning advice, when push finally came to shove they were both still terribly hesitant.

Charlie may have been gone for more than a minute now, but they were both stuck in their spots on the stage -- that dreadful atmosphere she never cared for engulfing them once more. That resolution that had carried them to this moment hadn’t disappeared exactly; it had merely snatched up inklings of hesitation on the way over. And now it was threatening to make all of this more difficult than it needed to be.

“Right.” They were both adults and had been friends for many years. They didn’t have to beat around the bush in order for her to find out the unequivocal truth. And they certainly didn’t have to wait another ten years for him to finally adapt. “I think we have to talk about this.”

“Before we do,” Charles gently tried his best not to outright interject, not wanting to seem rude. But he also needed to say something that was on his mind, one of the two things that currently bothered him. “I know that we need to talk about this because it’s important. But, because it’s important, maybe we shouldn’t talk about it on the stage?”

She faintly smiled at this, “Agreed.” 

They both sank a little in relief at this, pleased that the other had the same feelings about this conversation. Whatever came out of the next few minutes, it might not be best to talk about it in the middle of their workplace. Now all that was left was figuring out an appropriate setting.

“How about the dressing rooms?” The downstair dressing rooms did promise for a less open space than the stage, after all.

“Let’s not: Charlie’ll probably be lurking down there.” He shuddered at the thought, knowing that their friend probably meant well he’d just inadvertently be eavesdropping on what needed to be a private moment. “What about outside?”

“No,” She firmly protested, knowing that they would only encounter more Violet Crawley equivalents if they did that. “I suspect we won’t find much privacy outside.”

“You, too?” Charles inquired knowingly, recognizing the look of dread she held in her eyes. But, before she could figure out what he meant by that remark, “Right. If the dressing rooms and outside are out, what does that leave us?”

“The stage,” Elsie lowly concluded, chuckling a little. He dryly echoed the laughter himself, somehow able to find humour in this. “I suppose we ought to, well, just give it a go?”

“I think you’re right.” As uncomfortable as they both were, not really knowing what to expect next, it seemed they really were stuck here. Sitting in the house seats would feel like they were watching a staged production _and_ it wouldn’t allow for them to really talk face-to-face. The foyer echoed too much, which meant that Charlie would be able to hear them without even trying. Backstage would either be unnecessarily pitch-black or ridiculously teeming with fluorescent lights. Suffice to say, neither of those options were conducive to this conversation. 

So, it looked like the stage at the present moment -- with its somewhat intimate lighting and relatively secluded space, as impossible as it seemed -- was it. However, even with this decision made, he still couldn’t address the subject. Not until he addressed one other problem.

“You had a phone call?”

“Yes,” Inwardly scowling at the thought of Joe Burns possibly ruining this conversation long after it was over, Elsie tried to sweep that out of his mind by dismissing the incident: “It was nothing important.”

Charles wasn't convinced.

“You looked upset." He hadn’t quite ever seen that variation of anger and regret on her face before, brief as it had been. Which meant, "I’d say that it was pretty important.” 

Elsie was unimpressed.

“It was an old friend who wants to see me,” She tersely confessed, rather frustrated with the fact that they were talking about that phone call when they could be talking about them.

“An old friend?” When she talked like that, he was more than a bit concerned. There were old friends and then there were _ old friends _. So, maybe he really had already missed his chance to do this right. Maybe he had tried to adapt too late and would only be hurting them both now.

“Yes, Charlie.” Making sure not to slip in how she referred to him, not needing to confuse him any further by slipping and calling him "Charles", she continued: “An old friend I’ve not seen in more than a decade.”

“And are you going to see this old friend?” Because if she were, then he really was a fool putting on airs he had no right to. And they might as well stop this conversation right here and now because it was probably all pointless.

“Charles Carson, does it matter if I see this old friend?” Elsie was getting vexed now, not needing him to think so lowly of himself -- she knew that self-deprecating tone very well. And she was really not in the mood to have her actions further examined -- because that’s what normally tagged along his version of self-deprecation.

See, having been lectured for about twenty minutes by that Violet Crawley character, something that had been precipitated by that night with Beryl, she’d start to lose her temper if Charles though he could chime in with everyone else and tell her what she should be doing with her spare time. Especially seeing as how he’d been using his own spare time to chat up Alice Neal. So, continuing to add to her argument and show that Joe Burns meant very little to her right now, “A friend who, I might add, I’ve not cared to talk to or see in _ more than a decade. _”

_Oh._

“You misunderstand me,” Too late he recognized that his worry wasn't necessary with this, that he was bringing them down the wrong path with this change in conversation. That if he wasn’t careful, future regrets would be permanently penned into their minds and then they really wouldn’t be able to get anywhere.

“Have I now?” There was an understandable bite in her words. One that might have had Charles putting up walls and leaving the matter well alone. But, he knew that another chance to explain himself would never going to show up if he walked away now.

And, whatever else, he knew he couldn't just walk away.

“Yes.” However, Elsie was far past the point of caring or hearing him out right now. Whether she had misunderstood him or not, she wasn’t in the mood to be harshly judged by someone who looked to be doing the exact same thing. Violet's suggestion to discover the truth was fleeing the forefront of her mind with each passing second-- the woman finding herself to be more irritated with the current conversation than anything else.

“Well, I suppose Alice Neal can more than make up for my incompetence.” What should have been a cold verbal slap across his face missed him by inches, innate confusion shielding him from the pain. How they got on the subject of Alice Neal when they were talking about one of Elsie’s old friends made no sense to him. Why Elsie was talking like that about Alice, when she’d been perfectly neutral about the subject earlier, also made no sense whatsoever. “I’m sure she’s been perfectly understanding every step of the way. That’s why you’ll be leaving us for her, right?”

“What?” His bewilderment was enough to stumble her thoughts. But, it by no means convinced her that she had been wrong when it came to her personal theories about the situation.

“That’s why you wanted to have this group dinner, right?” Scowling, she briefly looked away so as to mentally shove away the conversations of the last twenty-four hours. She couldn’t deal with that sort of foolish optimism when reality was glaring right at her. “With how often you’ve been with her these last few weeks, what else could there be? Of course you’ll be leaving us now that you’ve found someone more worthwhile to be around, someone who doesn’t ‘misunderstand’ you. I can only suppose that that was your motivation behind having that group dinner. No doubt, you wanted to share the happy news with your best mates.

“And it makes sense, it really does,” Elsie frustratedly continued, the last three weeks of pain and the last several months of confusion finally pouring out of her tone. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or the growing apathy of a dreaded acceptance or the ire that came with being told what to do over and over again as though she were a child. But, regardless of what it was, something had snapped within her -- something that had been building for quite some time. “But, if you think for one second that your being in a relationship suddenly gives you the right to critique a situation you know nothing about, you are mistaken, Charles Carson!

“And if you think that you can just abandon your friends, the people who have been by your side since the start,” Her voice threatened to crack at this, despising the very idea. But she was too resolved about speaking her piece to let anything get in the way. “Well, then go ahead and do it. But don’t think for one moment that you can just come back when you realize that you need the stage as much as we do. I may not-- _ we _ may not mean all that much to you in the grand scheme, but don’t think we’ll let you just come back into our lives as though we’re your dolls to play with.”

After she at long last shot out that last piece, shuddering breaths had her take a stumbling step backward. Blatant candour had swung into her tone throughout all of this, everything from these last few weeks spilling onto the stage in the process and pushing her to walk away. She detachedly recognized that this wasn’t conducive to what they had wanted to talk about, that they should have just been focusing on whatever was going on between them. But the point was, all of this came back to them. Whatever Alice and Charles were doing, this judgment of his about Joe, it all came back to them. These conversations with Beryl and Violet and Isobel, these moments of warily staring up at the ceiling, this whole situation came back to them. And now that she’d finally gotten so much of her feelings off her chest, an exhaustion was crashing into her after all of this. One wherein she was oblivious to the silent expression of her friend, being too overwhelmed to catch the thoughts whirling about in his mind as he took in everything she finally said.

_ You really have misunderstood me. _

But, Charles understood now. And he also realized that -- for as much of a fool as he’d been all this time, there really was a chance to make a change here. It wasn’t too late to adapt. And there'd be pain, there was already a deep hurt that came from recognizing all these mistakes, but there could be something more.

“Elsie,” Stepping forward, he placed his hands around her shoulders, needing her to know this truth. He normally wouldn’t dare to touch her in such a fashion, but he knew the action was rare enough it would break her out of her thoughts. “I wasn’t going to ever walk away from you.”

She sharply exhaled at the sensation of his hands on her, disbelief carrying her gaze up to his even as tension continued to sneak into her spine. All thoughts were far gone the second those familiar hands gently grasped her shoulders in this uncharacteristic act. 

“But,” The woman was unsure of how they ended up like this, absolutely lost as to what he was trying to say, but she craved it all nevertheless. Despite her desire to point out the facts and bring them back to an even keel, she still craved this. “You’ve found Alice. You’ve been routinely meeting up with her for weeks now. You’ve brought more life to your acting than Charlie ever could in his entire career.”

His lips twitched at that remark, relieved that she was cracking something of a joke. It meant that she wasn’t still so far gone in her thoughts that they couldn’t really talk about this. That she would be able to listen to what he had to say, now that he’s actually reached her much like she had reached him only moments ago. 

And now that he realized how important it was to just get to the truth, it became easier to talk about everything. “I’ve only been going to Alice for advice.”

“Advice?” Charles didn’t outwardly smile at the growing confusion, the one that altered Elsie’s pitch more than usual and had her questioning everything.

“Advice.” He murmured, taking a moment to breathe in the irony. They’d both been making assumptions about the other it seemed. But the truth was that it’d just have been better to be honest from the start. “You see, I’ve had my eye on someone,” She stiffened a little at this, wanting to let this go just like he had only a minute ago, but he silently begged her to hear him out. Whatever she was thinking, he needed to explain everything. “For a little while now.”

The man could feel confusion take ahold of his friend as tension grasped her once again. And, releasing her from his hold, not wanting to feel as though he was controlling her now that they were finally talking, Charles waited for her to speak.

“A little while, you say?” It was a soft, disbelieving question. 

He solemnly nodded, “It seems I can be a little stubborn at times. And, it was only until I’d met Alice that I’d been content to deny everything.”

She outright snorted at this, still unsure of where this was going. But, determined to hear him out, having remembered her original intention with this conversation, she brought her gaze back up to his -- needing to know that unequivocal truth of his.

Though, this time, the blue irises held such hesitant incredulity that he found himself wanting to do anything that would take that uncertainty away. So, he forced himself to only listen to whatever she was going to say next. To not guess where her thoughts were or assume what her reactions would be.

“What did Alice say to change your mind?” Elsie wanted to ask who it was he’d suddenly realized his feelings for, but she didn’t dare to find out just yet. If this was going to be it for them, if he had indeed discovered feelings for someone else, she’d find out soon enough. She was still terribly confused because it really did seem as though Alice had taken center-stage in her friend’s mind these last few weeks. But, having said her piece, she felt infinitely better about all of this.

Either way, Charles shook his head at this question, knowing that it hadn’t quite been fully due to his grey-eyed friend that everything changed. While Alice had prompted him to converse about the subject, although she had given him rather insightful advice, his grey-eyed friend had only illuminated what he’d long since known.

“Alice didn’t say anything in particular. In fact, there really hadn’t been one specific thing from that night that changed my mind, you see.” At her unspoken curiosity, Charles suddenly found himself at peace. A clarity of some kind had taken over his mind now they were finally here, a clarity that brushed away hesitancy and had him understand exactly what he wanted to say. 

“Well, first, I realized that -- as nice as it was to have made her acquaintance -- I would rather have been spending the evening with someone else.” She bit her lip at this in resignation, almost tempting him to cut a few lines and skip straight to the conclusion of this little monologue. However, he knew how important it was to say everything. It cleared the air far better than any assumption ever could. “Then I found myself bringing up that someone else up in the conversation more than I anticipated, something I hadn’t realized until later. 

“Eventually, Alice did give me a chance to confess my feelings when I finally saw them for what they were. But, it was only after I realized how pointless self-denial was that I said anything to her. Which is how I came to spending so much of my time with her lately.” He continued almost a little sheepishly, at last recognizing what that American from earlier had meant when she said he really had been messing up his chances. No wonder Elsie had been thinking what she had; he'd been going down a similar path after hearing about this old friend of hers and he'd felt that way only after a minute or two. “After I’d explained my feelings, she’d offered to help me figure out a way to voice them to that someone else.” 

Charles meaningfully looked at her now, really hoping she understood him. And though it took a second, something in his gaze clicked together an understanding in her mind. A bitten lip dropped a little in shock, not daring to believe him. Eyes minutely widened in complete stupefaction, a surprised gasp escaping her heart.

“Surely, you don’t mean to suggest that--” However, Elsie needed to outright state the words this time around. She couldn’t let her astonished thoughts float into silence like so many times before. “Surely you don’t mean to suggest _ me _?”

Oh, he loved her.

Whatever else happened, that much would always remain the case.

“But, I do” Meeting her gaze head on, trying his best to convey every ounce of authenticity he could, “I do mean to suggest you.”

Now, she was purely gaping at him. 

“But, you can’t possibly mean _ me _\--” The continued protestation had weakened his resolve, the man now wondering if he’d been wrong about everything for the millionth time in a row. He really hadn’t been sure to begin with about her own feelings; he’d only known his well enough to realize that something had to be said. 

“I understand if you’d rather we just let the subject go, pretend I never said anything of this,” Starting to become more nervous about this entire scenario than ever before, the man started to clumsily ramble as he mentally began to shield himself, “I also know that this makes things a bit awkward between us now that you know my feelings. However, I’d like to believe that we’ve worked together long enough to remain professional about the matter. That we will be able to trudge through whatever’s next, regardless. Of course, if you’d rather work somewhere else--”

“Charles!”

Hearing his name spoken like that from her, the tone of it alongside that variation, it all snapped his attention back to Elsie. Having no basis for this intimate cue, he couldn’t help but slip into a rather tentative silence. Unsure of what was next, but also knowing it was her turn to speak, he eventually inclined his head in way of consent so she could continue. 

“Now it’s you who’s misunderstanding me.” The woman somewhat teased, though it lacked any snark. It was his turn to begin to freeze, gradually becoming startled by a possibility coming back to life. 

“What on earth do you mean?” Because she had looked shocked by his earlier admission, but she wasn’t trying to push him away now that she knew. And she also wasn’t demanding that there be professional boundaries instilled either. In fact, she had just repeated his words. So, while he didn’t dare to reach any one type of conclusion, he also couldn’t keep himself from hoping that this all might work out.

Elsie was now trying to waste as little time as possible, knowing she couldn’t shock him too much if she wanted her own message to be understood, “There is someone _ I’ve _ had my eyes on for a little while now, too.” Searching for the right words, “Someone who is sometimes a little too stubborn for their own good.” Watching him straighten up in disbelief, “Someone who looked to have been falling in love with someone else thanks to a blind date that _ I _ had put together.”

After that admission, Elsie looked at him intently -- feeling as though a weight was beginning to release itself from her shoulders. No doubt she’d need to thoroughly explain herself down the road and further elucidate on what she meant. But, this confession would hopefully be enough to break this scene of bewilderment and uncertainty. Because she now understood that that unequivocal truth spoken of earlier, the one that involved the _ both _of them. 

“I’m really not convinced I can be hearing this right.” The words tumbled out more clumsily than he’d like, but he could only be honest about all of this. She couldn’t help but nod at this, having felt exactly the same only moments before.

“Then, let me explain.” Pausing, desperately searching for the appropriate words, “You’re hearing this right if you think that _ I _ am suggesting _ you _ as my ‘someone else’ _ . _”

Och, why couldn’t she make this more elegant? For that matter, why didn’t she see this all sooner? Why had she assumed she knew everything from the start, much like he undoubtedly had?

“Are you sure, Elsie? Really sure?”

She only arched an eyebrow at this question, the unspoken yes sketched quite firmly into her stare. She’d known her feelings for him for many years now; they weren’t going to change anytime soon. And she very much doubted they’d ever really change, not after all this time. And now that she was fully aware of his, she could finally admit hers. 

“The question is if _you _are sure, Charles.” A hint of hesitation crept into her resolve, “Because it will be a different life.”

_ Do you even have to ask? _ Then, remembering everything that had happened all this time, he realized that she _ did _have to ask. So, it was with a renewed determination that he met her gaze head on and stated as clearly as he could, “I am.”

Elsie nodded to herself, relief still pouring out of this blue irises at the sound of such assurance. It looked like it could really be that simple, that this truly was the truth of the matter. But judging from the fact that they both felt like this was a dream, nothing else, she almost expected everything to disappear in a trace -- a tantalizing hallucination.

"Well, then," The words started to swirl out, an old script she'd never spoken coming forth. But, she stopped herself, knowing that a script wouldn't convey this message. She needed to know that this wasn't a scene destined to fade into the darkness once these lights stopped, that this was more than an illusion brought forth by the stage's existence.

So, distance began to close, hearts racing much like they've would for an opening night. Except, the difference was that they’d had the chance to see this show for nine years. 

It was only now that they were embracing that fact and each other.

That’s when Charlie Grigg came quietly up the stairs, having been too worried about all this to keep waiting downstairs. Of course, seeing them like that -- so taken with getting to know one another in this new way -- he’d immediately did a back-track to get the hell out of sight. Nearly tripping into a music stand that had no business being backstage, somehow managing not to disrupt this little scene of theirs as he stumbled back toward the steps, the actor found himself astonished that the pair was still unaware of his arrival. He’d even taken a moment to further observe them after it was obvious they hadn’t noticed, appalled that they were being unusually oblivious to the world.

But, then, hearing the sounds that came with their newfound connection suddenly deepening, he decided he didn’t need to be noticed by them anytime soon. And he _ really _ did not need to see them act that way. Nope, definitely didn’t need those images anytime soon. If they didn’t see him and he could pretend he didn’t see them, then the man was all for it. It meant that he could remain oblivious until they were ready to say something, which suited him perfectly fine now it all looked to be _ finally _sorted out.

Mentally swatting the images of his friends with their _ newfound connection _ as far away as possible, Charlie took a moment to collect his bearings. Then, knowing that this was great and all but they _ really _needed to rehearse at some point today, he snuck back down the steps that led to the dressing rooms. Waiting a few more seconds, knowing the timing had to be perfect, he clumsily began to amble up the steps once again -- making sure to make enough noise they’d know he was coming.

And by the time he was back up the stairs a second time in as many minutes -- yes, he did catch the unusually sheepish sounds of “I suppose we ought to not get too carried away here,” “Indeed. How about dinner tonight?” -- He knew that things were going to work out just fine.

_._

Alice Neal considered herself to be a fairly patient person. But after another day of cubicle hell, she found herself to be lacking a little in that regard. Too much office gossip, combined with the setbacks of being fairly late, and she found herself thinking back to her call with Charles. The one from a few hours ago, the one where she couldn't stay and help for once. The one that eventually led to her composing the following text: 

** _Did everything work out? -- AN_ **

She had waited with bated breath throughout two unnecessary meetings, tried to ignore her query when the invoice filing got a little too redundant, and only cracked when an additional three hours had passed with no response.

** _Did anything happen?? -- AN_ **

That had been sent two hours ago and there _ still _hadn’t been a response. And, seeing as how Charles normally had at least two breaks over five hours of rehearsal, breaks wherein he’d normally be glued to his phone and updating her on every. single. detail…. Yes, there was definite cause for concern.

So, when she _ finally _got a text, any concept of invoicing was chucked aside in favour of reading this unexpected message:

** _Any update on what happened today? -- BP_ **

She sighed when the text registered in her mind. Beryl meant well, it was only that her text didn’t give a conclusion on whatever happened to Charles and Elsie.

** _Not yet. -- AN_ **

For the sake of her job, she put her phone aside for at least the next ten minutes -- determined to finish up some more administrative tasks before caving in. Of course, she was well aware that there would be a message waiting for her when all of that was completed; she'd heard her mobile buzz about six minutes into this hour's menial task.

And when said text was opened at last, there could only be one response. An approving smirk blossomed, expanding by the second as a response was composed:

** _Yes. -- AN_ **

_._

This time, his two idiots had tried their best to nonchalantly leave the theatre by bickering as though it were all perfectly innocent and he hadn’t seen them earlier. Well, it did make some sense: they were unaware of the fact that he’d accidentally gotten tickets _ that _ show. And, he himself was content to pretend that they were back to bantering with one another instead of doing anything else together.

Still, “If either of you think I’m that stupid,” Charlie muttered to himself, as though they were both still in the theatre, “You’d be mistaken.”

Bickering and assumptions aside, none of it really mattered now. They’d already bolted off into the night, leaving him to close shop for the evening. And knowing his two idiots as well as he did, Charlie could assume that they were already heading off to that pub of theirs. In other words, there’d be nothing for him to do tonight other than scrounge up some food by himself.

Not that he really minded. 

Anyway, now was as good a time as any to make sure everything was shut off for the night. He meticulously scanned the sound and lights system in the booth, eyes carefully inspecting everything. Once that all checked out, it was only a matter of locking doors and heading out to discover quite the peculiar sight.

“Don’t tell me," He sarcastically started to announce, pleased that they hadn't been expecting him, "You’re looking to audition.” 

The grey-eyed woman smiled goodnaturedly at this, but the redhead was already beating her to the verbal punch:

“Do you know what happened with Elsie and Charles?”

“Yup.” This much he could confess. 

“And are you ever going to tell us?” Charlie sent her a knowing look at this, pleased to be the one who held the cards this time. Though, seriously, the two ladies -- lovely as they could be -- were keeping him from his food.

“They’ve gone out to chat -- dinner, I think.” He turned away from the pair, anticipating that they would’ve left him alone after this declaration. Better yet, that they'd rightfully assume the best-case scenario and call it a night.

Little did he know, that would definitely _ not _be the case.

_._

They had decided it would be more efficient to walk to tonight’s dinner together -- it’d allow them a chance to walk in comfortable silence and test the waters of this atypical scene. In tonight’s case, the scene sketched out several moments of hand-holding, light conversation, and the occasional tender peck on the pavement. 

And, better yet, upon arriving at the pub in question, “You know, I was hesitant to go here at first. But, I do think you were right to suggest it, Charles.”

With her approval taking to the air so effortlessly, he couldn’t help but beam in response. It’d been a suggestion that had initially struck him as a strange one, but one he was glad to have considered, nevertheless.

“Of course,” Elsie continued, a dryer note now taking hold of her words, “Suppose we bump into Alice Neal tonight by mistake? What should we do then?”

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, relief flooding his exasperation, “Very funny, Elsie.”

_._

“You’re joking.” Beryl hadn’t believed Charlie when he’d informed her of tonight’s destination -- a detail he’d unintentionally overheard over the course of the day. 

“D’you think I’d joke about this?” It was more of a muttering than a question, one that was followed by a gesture in the direction of the pub at hand, “See for yourself.”

The pub’s name gleamed in gold letters, grandly greeting them a second time as Beryl’s car pulled up to a nearby spot. It was all a rarity, that was for sure. But what was even rarer was the sight of two individuals standing in front of the pub, two people indulging in a chaste kiss. Maybe they thought they were cloaked in an anonymity, one that could give them the chance to just be themselves. Perhaps they were spurred on by the moment itself.

Either way, none of the observers thought they'd _ever_ witness something quite like this.

“_ The Keys _,” Alice mumbled, her heart soaring at the thought. It was absolutely endearing that this was to be their dinner, all things considered. “Who would’ve thought?”

“Charlie did, apparently.” Grigg snarked from his seat, shrugging. Beryl and Alice snorted at this, appreciating the response. “Now, I think you two got your answer for the evening. We gonna leave and get drinks or what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Beryl said, shooting Alice a meaningful look. “I think we might need to be sure that we’re not jumping the gun on this. What if they're only putting on a front? They _are _actors.”

“Ah, c'mon,” This sort of negotiation was becoming a familiar scene for the man, loathe as he was to admit it, “Let’s leave them alone. We’ll give them a hard time about this tomorrow just to make sure they're for real.”

“But, Charlie," He really didn't like the sound of Alice chiming in like that. "If we don’t confirm the truth tonight, we might never know what we’re supposed to do. Do you really want to have more days like today?”

Beryl inwardly snickered at the exasperation now painting itself across the actor’s face. Really, how did they make a living on the stage when their real emotions were _ so _obvious?

_._

He had been shocked to hear that familiar voice slink past him in the crowd, not having expected to hear it for quite some time. And, turning in the direction of that familiar lilt, he was startled to realize it was being accompanied by a deeper rumble tonight.

“Excuse us,” A cheeky voice, one that hinted at resigned fondness, began to pipe up. “But we need to make sure our friends are actually on a date tonight.” The owner of said cheeky voice glanced over at his only redheaded companion as though this was some sort of an inside joke between them, blithely continuing, “So, if you could move a little to the right, that’d be great.”

“Come again?” Joe Burns had been too fixated on looking at the charming man before him to actually hear the words. And, interestingly enough, it looked like the charming man was suddenly distracted now that Joe had turned around to face this little trio of friends.

“We’ll explain after we’ve saved the day, thanks.” The redhead snarked, mercilessly budging her two companions through the doorway. The man being shoved further inside the pub just smiled at Joe, looking to be oblivious to the fact that his redhead friend was on a mission. 

“You can tag along if you’d like,” The grey-eyed lady in the group smoothly offered, gesturing for Joe to tag along. He really shouldn't want to join these strangers in their strange quest; he didn't even know what they were on about. And even with this in mind, he found himself trailing after the trio as they started to maneuver through the busy establishment. And, curiously observing the chatter of the group -- not really sure what was going on even after a few minutes passed -- he continued to follow along in this mission of theirs. Though, eventually, he realized he had to outright ask if he wanted any answers as to what was going on.

“Have you found who you’re looking for?”

The man, who had introduced himself as Charlie in the middle of this strange night, shook his head.

“They’re not--” “Wait a minute, Charlie, I see them!”

Alice, the grey-eyed lady, had spotted their friends at last -- discreetly pointing to a corner in the room as best as she could. Joe looked on to scan the corner, a sense of bemusement flooding him at the sight of Elsie tucked in that very same corner with some well-dressed bloke. It had to have been the man from earlier, the owner of that rumbling voice and the person he hadn't been able to get a good look at.

“Looks like they’re settling in for the night, our Elsie and Charles.” Beryl had knowingly remarked, causing Joe to gape in shock. This trio had actually been looking for _ her _ tonight?

“And about time, too,” Charlie grumbled, casting his eyes away from the sight and choosing to focus on Joe instead. 

“How many years has it been?” 

“Nine.” Alice supplied, before sending her friend a disbelieving look. Joe turned at this proclamation, keeping silent as he continued to watch the three strangers converse. “Even I knew that one, Beryl.”

“Well, forgive me for not memorizing their love lives, okay?” 

Charlie chuckled at the redhead’s comment before interjecting, “When you have to work with them for all of those years, you don’t forget those kinds of facts.”

“And I guess when you’ve decided you’re gonna help them if it’s the last thing you do, you tend to remember it as well.” Alice blushed at the comment, looking as though she wanted to change the subject. Turning to the only real stranger in the group, she began to direct her attention toward him.

“So, what brought you here tonight?” It took Joe a moment to realize she was talking to him, the man still putting together what was going on. Worse still, it took him another moment or so to come up with a decent reply.

Even then, he wasn't entirely sold that this was the best response: “I’m in town to see an old friend.”

“An ‘old friend’, eh?” Beryl asked archly, snatching up something in that answer.

“Yeah.” Glancing in the direction of Elsie before focusing on the trio, knowing that he wasn’t likely to see these three people ever again. “I’m going through a change of sorts and had to tell someone.”

“Oh?” Alice inquired, her curiosity obvious for all listening.

But, Joe wasn't in the mood to trust just anyone, “Yeah.” 

In all honesty, realizing he really didn’t need to be by Elsie’s or _ any _ woman’s side had taken quite some time to understand. But, once he realized that he also realized he couldn’t deny it. He had to tell at least one other person. And when he did finally figured that part out, he _also_ figured something else out, too: out of everyone he’d ever crossed paths with, Elsie Hughes would be one of the only people who would understand. Despite their old relationship, she wouldn't be shocked or disgusted with him. She'd just listen and support him as best as she could.

Or, at least, that's what he had hoped.

Which was partially why he’d been so desperate to get an answer on if they could meet up this week. He’d been planning on dropping by Downton either way, really needing to step away from his normal life for a minute. But, if he got a chance to talk to her and get all of this off his chest, everything would be even easier.

“So,” Charlie eventually broke the silence, “We gonna check in on them or are we gonna walk away?”

“Oh, there'll be no ‘checking in’ on them, not this time, Charlie Grigg!”

_._

“Right. So we’re agreed that there’s no need to tell them they’ve been spotted?” Charles acerbically put this question forth after furtively observing their small group of friends. He didn’t recognize the fourth member of the group tonight, but Beryl and Charlie and Alice were unmistakable. Which had led to his mentioning it and his subsequent query.

“Agreed.” Having had her back to the group the entire time, it was easy to consent to this plan. With how this table was arranged, Charles was the only one who could effortlessly get a good look at them. And since she didn’t have any desire to focus on anyone other than the man before her, this arrangement suited them quite well.

Maybe she would’ve been more fascinated with the situation at another point in time. But tonight her attention was solely directed toward enjoying dinner with a very good friend. Which, speaking of, “Do you suppose we ought to reassure them all is well, Charle-- Charlie?” 

Charles raised an eyebrow at this, naturally intrigued by the question. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was radiating a teasing air or the fact that she was now offering him a hand to hold in plain sight -- something that was quite audacious in itself, considering the audience.

"Please," He gently asked, "You can call me Charles, Elsie."

She blushed, having not realized how often she had slipped on the matter.

"Very well, Charles," He also soon held a flushed air after hearing his name spoken like _that_. And, in an effort to distract himself from the thoughts now coming to mind, he glanced down at her proffered hand -- deciding at once what he wanted to do about the offer.

Reaching out to grasp her hand and bestow it with a kiss, “In regards to your earlier question, I think we can afford to reassure them of that." Almost playfully, feigning a neutral air, "Do you have any suggestions in particular?”

“Well, now that you mention it,” Elsie lightly began to speak, blushing at the sensation of his lips on her hand. “I do have an idea or two.”

And, with or without luck, it would work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a little bonus epilogue coming out shortly, but that's all for now folks! It's been a delightful little treat to compose this and I hope you enjoyed it!


	6. That Old Phrase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note: **Thank you all very much for your patience with this. I hope you enjoy the final installment of this little story!

He had felt her presence long before she had arrived, an infusing sense of warmth enveloping the restaurant the closer she approached. And as his beautiful wife crossed the way, he couldn't help but recall an old phrase that had run through his thoughts many times these last seven years.

"_The dress she wears is new, flattering, something you can't help but stare at in as you get nearer and nearer..."_

That had definitely been true the first time they'd gone out on their official first date, that stunning pale blue piece of hers stealing his gaze the moment he'd caught sight of it. And, now, tonight, a glimpse of lavender told him that the same would hold true for this evening's ensemble.

"_And as you approach her, you start to realize that you will be completely alone with her tonight."_

Although she was the one walking toward him, his mind was the one drawing nearer to her - tenderly observing every enchanting line that made up the shape of her. There would be no mentioning of work with Charlie, no blunt distractions in the form of uppity characters, and certainly no interrupting texts from well-meaning friends.

"_There will be no script to guide you, no cues from other people to take."_

"I do hope I haven't kept you waiting too long,"

"Not at all." And it was true. There was no sense of time when she was in the room, let alone when he was thinking of her.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop her from explaining the delay.

"Charlie knew about tonight, but he wanted some advice about surprising Joe for their anniversary. You'd think after five years of being together, he ought to know to stop asking for advice. But he still insists _I_ know the man best."

Mirth rippled through his chuckle, the low timbre of contentment turning her gaze from her purse to him. Explanation of her behalf traversed the stage of space between them, a spotlight of curiosity piercing through the air.

"_Your lines are yours and only yours."_

Addressing the arched eyebrow and those captivating sapphires that have continually stared him down for sixteen years, "Well, he's right you know."

She didn't look to be convinced, that spotlight of intrigue now fixated on his plateau:

"Is he now?"

Smiling, unperturbed by such a force of energy, "Indeed he is."

"_And you will be your own director."_

This was a scene that needed no direction or guidance in his mind; he was perfectly satisfied with letting it go wherever it wanted. He had long since come to peace with his fears. Moreover, they had waded through far too much for him to carry any more doubt about this.

"_There will be no one to pause the scene or restart the monologue because this is it."_

And Charles Carson would be lying if he said he wanted _any_ other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note: **I can't explain it, but the words finally came back to me after _many_ weeks of writer's block. And, I'm pleased to say that it's to a point where I will have a new piece for you soon enough. Keep an eye out for "The One With The Cinder" - aka, the fairy tale spoof that somehow takes itself seriously!

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note: **Hope you've enjoyed that little treat! More is certainly on the way and should be posted within 2-3 days!


End file.
